


Can't Keep Myself Away

by Big_Diesel



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Accidental Incest, Affairs, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Alternate Universe - Harem, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Female Character, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Brother-Sister Relationships, Cheating, Childhood Memories, Comfort Sex, Covert Operation, Crimes & Criminals, Dominance, Drama, Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Escort Service, Explicit Sexual Content, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Family Secrets, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Femdom, Fluff and Angst, Forced Bonding, Forced Orgasm, Forced Prostitution, Gang Violence, Gangbang, Gangs, Harems, Human Trafficking, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Incest, Incest, Incest Kink, Incest Play, Investigations, Mother-Son Relationship, Motherhood, Multi, Nuns, Older Woman/Younger Man, Parent/Child Incest, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Private Investigators, Prostitution, Protective Siblings, Roleplay, Romance, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Sexual Roleplay, Sibling Incest, Single Parents, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Smoking, Submission, Surrogacy, Suspense, Threesome - F/F/M, Undercover, Vaginal Sex, Yandere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-11-06 14:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11037948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Diesel/pseuds/Big_Diesel
Summary: The impressionable nineteen-year-old Lincoln works for an escort service, the Keepers, under a mysterious woman named L. Because of his loyalty, she assigns him a position in training housewives to become escorts. What should have been an easy task becomes difficult when he notices a familiar name on the resume. Because of the Keepers’ vow of secrecy, he must continue with its mission, despite the feelings he has for it.Follow the journey of Lincoln as he becomes encompassed in the world of self-discovery, regret, romance, shame, and hope. Will this ordeal give Lincoln a new perspective or unfold the repressive memories of his hidden past? Can’t Keep Myself Away reminds readers of the old tried-and-true philosophy, what happens in the dark will soon come into the light.





	1. Old Girl and The Old Man

The unremarkable, but adequate lighting of the marquee lit the darkened parking lot, or at least that was what it looked to Lincoln. He stepped out of his 1976 Chevy Caprice that he had received as a birthday gift for his sixteenth birthday. It wasn't the idea type of car he had imagined taking any of his girlfriends, or lack thereof, on dates, but it had to do. His father put his heart and soul into the vehicle so it can be operable. Lincoln, himself, was there to attest the time of its former glory.

He slammed the door loudly. It wasn't out of frustration or anger; not even to alert anyone of his presence. If he did not slam it, then the door couldn't close properly. He had a self-deprecating smirk about his vehicle. He tried not to compare it to himself. It wasn't easy being a teenager living in suburban Detroit. He wished that it was based out of sarcasm, but alas it wasn't. However, he did not have time to elaborate on his fallible nature. There was a reason why he was here. And he was not going to find it in the parking lot.

He walked to the building where he met the marquee. Even in its former glory, despite the flickering of its light and the sound of its approaching end, it proudly displayed the name of the place called _The Caton Tavern._ The establishment stood the attest of time along with his Chevy Caprice. He nicknamed it Old Girl. What he had find amazing was that he and his father were in this very parking lot when he purchased Old Girl. His father bought it from a man who previously owned the old tavern. Lincoln didn't remember much of the old man. There wasn't anything significant about him. Well, except for one thing, his glass eye. It sparkled like glass when exposed to the sun. The faded colors of blue and green made him of a marble. His first thought, why would a man wear a marble in his eye?

Lincoln chuckled at the thought as he put his hands on the handle of the restaurant. Before opening it, he still pictured the old man and his marbled glass eye. He even thought about Old Girl. It made him think about the journey. What was the old man thinking when giving away a possession that was old as the restaurant he opened those many years ago? Can that vehicle continue to tell the tales despite its silence? If the seats could talk, what would say? What can it say? Lincoln was too much of a thinker. He couldn't help it. He concluded that it was because it was too much of his father in him. He doesn't seen him very much.

It has been a couple of years since the passing of his father. It was his older sister, Luna, who had find him in the basement that fateful morning. What made Lincoln's heart skipped was it was the day of his parent's anniversary. He was slumped over his desk with his hands grasping on his stiffened chest. Next to him was the present he was making for their mother, his wife. Made from the very hands that he were becoming cold in the still, quiet, musty basement. A bookshelf to congratulate their mother on her first book being approved from a publishing company.

As much he wanted to think about his father or the old man or Old Girl, he didn't have any more time. He was already late for his appointment and the person, in particular, did not like their time being wasted.

Lincoln was welcomed to the sound of country filling the hazy smoke of the restaurant. This run-of-the-mill establishment was home to the truckers of the night, the shysters, the rebels, the downtrodden, you name it. All eyes were set on Lincoln upon his entrance. Many stared at his tall, lanky appearance. His hair was whiter than a skunk. His hands, his arm was thinner than a string bean. If weren't for his pants covering his legs, it too may have the same description of his other extremities. When it came to the value of his appearance, Lincoln was indifferent. It mattered not. He had no intentions to impress because there was nothing worth valuable to him. He didn't have low self-esteem. He just has low esteem for everyone else. 'Keep a handful of friends and that is all you need' was his philosophy he embedded into his brain since the early days of junior high.

He walked down the bar where the handful of stranger gave him glances. He kept going as if they were part of the decor. Upon reaching an empty table, he removed his jacket and sat it next to him. He folded it neatly. Once he got comfortable, he was met with a waitress. She gave him a slight smile. It felt forced, but he could tell that she didn't want to make it any more awkward.

"What can I get you, sugar," said the deep-voiced waitress. He watched her wrinkled hands wrapped the notebook around her.

"A glass of water," he said while continuing to stare at her. He didn't know why he continued staring at the pale-skinned woman. _Maybe it because she could use a friend_ , he thought.

"Anything else," she said before darting her eyes away from him.

He looked over her stained uniform. "Yeah, umm Alice," he said. "I would also like to have a pack of Marlboros if you please."

"Right away," she said before departing in the crowd who had began to dance onto the dance floor.

Conway Twitty was the selection of the night. A serenade where others danced to their former years. Even if Lincoln liked country, he did not fit into that era. The early days of Johnny Cash were beyond him, incomprehensible to him. He had always thought to stick to music that was relatable or seeking empathy in his era. That was why he could confined himself into the sounds of Coltrane, Miles Davis, and the like. It had soothed his soul like the cigarette he was itching to have. He understood how it meant to be misrepresented. The rhythm, the pitches, it captivated him. It felt that God made that music just for him.

A moment later, he was welcomed with a glass of tap water and his pack of Marlboros. The waitress knew him well enough that he liked his brand of Marlboros to red and filtered. She also knew that despite the many options of water available, he preferred his straight from the kitchen sink and with no ice.

He pulled out a few singles and handed it to the waitress without saying another word. Before she departed, she slid a slip of paper before walking away into the solemn crowd.

He took a sip of his water. He reached into his pants pocket to retrieve a lighter. As he lighting up his cigarette, he picked the tiny piece of paper.

_After you finish your water and smoke, meet me in the back office._

_-L_

He put the piece of paper into his shirt pocket and lied back on the seat while finishing his smoke.

After finishing his preliminary smoke break, he walked toward the hallway where there were three doors; one to the side, one to the other side, and one in the center. The restrooms were on both sides of him. However, in the center was where he needed to be.

_Office_

No plaque, just handwritten in red. There was nothing grandeur about it. It was because there was nothing significant about the room. However, it was there where Lincoln had an appointment. He looked at his watch. He had already knew he was a few minutes later.

He gave three slight knocks. He paused and stood there. He looked around before the knocks were returned from the other side. The door opened where he was met with a bodyguard. Unlike your typical bodyguard, the bodyguard was a woman.

She stood over six feet tall. Her eyes were black like that clothes she was wearing. Her hair was black. Her fingernails were black. Everything about her was black, but the color of her tan-skinned. She had a name, but she preferred to be called Black. Black gave Lincoln a cold stare. Without giving him a word, he already knew the drill.

He extended his arms and spread his legs. Black took her hands and searched throughout his body. Lincoln didn't flinch or react because it was routine. She did it every time before his meeting with L.

"He's clean," Black said aloud with affirmation.

Lincoln looked at the front of the back office where a small desk stood. The desk contained nothing but file folders. It had a phone, a humming computer monitor, and a small television where it displayed cameras of all of the tavern. It also included a leather chair where its back was in front of Lincoln. The chair was rocking back and forth before turning to face Lincoln.

"I know he is clean, where it counts," said the voice. The voice was very feminine. It had a southern drawl to it, as if she was from the southern region of the United States. Her eyes met Lincoln's. Her eyes were black as the night. As if anyone enters the murky water, there will be nothing but darkness. Her face had a creamy complexion. Her nose was pointy. Her cheeks were a rosy red. She was a beautiful woman. However, she was also a very powerful woman.

She was known by many names, but none that Lincoln could remember. She had a real name, but it only can be used by her mother, her husband, and her son. It was really unfortunate to know that her mother and her husband are no longer part of this world. And as for her son, she hasn't seen him in many, many years.

He doesn't know of her age, but he guessed that she had to be near forty-five, fifty years old. Nevertheless, she has kept an appearance of a woman in their latter half of their twenties. Another thing Lincoln remember was to never question her age or how she worked. If he wanted to leave the office in one piece, then he would do what she ordered.

"Have a seat, Lincoln," said L.

"Yes ma'am," replied Lincoln.

Unlike her chair, which was comfortable and obviously expensive, his chair was just plain that could be purchased at any inexpensive store. He didn't care. He had an agenda: have this meeting as quickly as possible and then get out.

L snapped her fingers were a girl who was naked with the exception of an apron covering her hips appeared from the other door. L instructed her to roll her a cigarette. Lincoln watched as the woman quickly wrapped the rolling papers before handing it to her. L slapped her butt as a compliment before the woman bowed and walked away. L looked at Lincoln. Lincoln reached into his pocket where he took the lighter and flicked it. She took a few puffs before blowing smoke into the air.

"Thank you," she said while taking another smoke. "That will excuse you for your tardiness."

Lincoln did not say a word. He learned to never back talk her around that kind of comment.

"I have called you here, Lincoln, because I have been thinking of some new directions," she said very casually while flicking her ash into the ashtray.

"New directions," he questioned.

"Correct," she confirmed. "You have been working for me about two or three years, right?"

"True," said Lincoln. "Around the time I reached my seventeenth birthday. So about three years."

She smiled at him. "It has been that long, child." She took another smoke. "But your beauty, your face has never changed." She flicked her ash into the ashtray as she blew a puff of smoke. "I am really glad to have found you."

Lincoln didn't respond. He kept the same facial expression since entering the restaurant.

"What I like about you, Lincoln is that you have been all business," she told him. "That is the very reason why I have hired you. I knew that you were very _useful_ to my clients."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. He was patting his pockets. He was having another itch to smoke.

"It's okay," she said. "Go ahead."

Lincoln retrieved his cigarette and lit the cigarette. He took a few puffs before returning his eyes on L.

"It seems like yesterday when I taught you how to smoke," she said. "Time flies, doesn't it." She looked at the security camera for a moment before looking at Lincoln. "Anyway, you have been very good with the clients. Many of them have been asking about you. Really wanting more of your _services_."

Lincoln knew how discrete L was with her talk. L had a habit of looking at her security camera and fidgeting around the place. She did not want others to listen on her conversation. She motioned Black to leave the room. But before Black left, she turned on the stereo. The sound of heavy metal filled the room and it was very loud. L didn't care about the music or the quality. It was loud and she needed it for a reason.

"You have been under the housewives' radar the most," she said with a smirk. "Many wives throughout Detroit and the surrounding areas come to flock to you."

"Just doing my job," he said.

"It is always business with you," she said. She wasn't angry, but it was a hint of sternness in her voice. "At some point, you must find it somewhat exciting?" She licked her lips and displayed her darkened eyes to Lincoln. "Remember how I trained you?"

Lincoln sighed. "L, I don't want to be that person and excuse my rudeness, but just like you, I am also pressed for time."

His comment was returned with a slap. Lincoln didn't flinch. He continued staring at her eyes while his face was met with blood from the scratch mark of her nails.

"And you were also quite difficult as well," she retorted. "Your mouth has certainly not learned its place when you are in my presence."

"Sorry," replied Lincoln.

L sat back before taking another smoke. "Forgiven, but see to it that it doesn't happen again. Understood?"

Lincoln shook his head as he was finishing his cigarette.

"Anyway, I have thought long and hard about what I want to do with you," she said. "You are my most popular _alpha_." She looked into the computer. She clicked on the keyboard before turning the monitor into Lincoln's direction. "Do you see this place?"

Lincoln scanned the screen where it showed a website of apartments. "The Marymount." He said aloud.

"These are new apartment complexes that are just recently built in downtown. Very luxurious condos, top of the line." She started displaying all of her teeth. "I was thinking about purchasing a few of these apartments for our services."

"You know what is best," replied Lincoln.

"Thank you," she said with a tone of insincerity. "However, this is only part of the reason why I have called you here. I need you for this."

"In what way," questioned Lincoln.

"How do you feel to live in one of these luxurious condos," she asked with intent. "All expense paid, everything you need. All I want from you is to continue serving these housewives." She coughed before adding more to her thought. "And maybe to train others as well."

Lincoln stared at her with the look of confusion. However, he knew what she was going with this. He kept a plastic smile before leaning back to the chair. "You want me to scout?"

"Don't worry about that," she said. "I have a few of the _omegas_ to take care of that. What I want you to do is to train some of the housewives."

"Hold on a second, I am confused," said Lincoln. "I thought was sleeping with the housewives to satisfy them."

"You're right," she said. "But now, some of these housewives want to join me and become _alphas_. However, they must understand that it is not going to be easy. Remember how on what they did to you?"

He shook his head. "Yes, ma'am."

"These women have put their heart and soul in receiving their love from these boys that they want to be responsible for getting these boys." She scanned through some file folders. "But, they must understand that once they are getting trained, they are abandoning everything around them. No longer are they clients, but becoming servers of these boys. And you know the heavy risk factor around this."

"I know the gist. One can fall in love easily. Secrets could be released and the like."

"Certainly. And I don't want that to happen."

She turned the monitor around before turning off the computer. "Do this with me and I guarantee that you will be taken care of, I promise."

"It doesn't matter if I want to or not, I must do what you tell me, anyway," he replied.

"You know your place, my _alpha_." She lightly chuckled while looking up at the ceiling. "I still remember the day you came to me as a _beta_. So young, so nubile. Did not know anything about the world."

Lincoln watched her laugh, whereas he could no longer care. He looked at his watch with the hope that the meeting was almost finished.

"Is there anything else you need of me," asked Lincoln politely.

"There isn't anymore. You are free to leave," she replied. "However, one more thing."

Lincoln stood up and walked around her desk. He watched as she patted her thighs with her hands. "Sit," she commanded. Lincoln got on top of her thighs where he was welcomed with a wet, sloppy kiss. Lincoln closed his eyes as her tongue entered his mouth. Coating his with her saliva, her cigarettes, and whatever she consumed. She wrapped her hands tightly around his hips, bucking her hips to ensure him on her intentions.

"Do you know what you do to me," she said in between pants as she began kissing his nose. Lincoln kept his eyes closed as he heard her moans. She continued bucking her hips while Lincoln rested his head on her shoulders.

He looked around the office where it showed pictures of its former days, back in the day where it was a family restaurant. Right at the corner of his eye was the picture of the old man and his Old Girl. In the picture was the old man when he had both of his eyes. Old Girl stood proudly next to the tavern with its Grand Opening sign. Lincoln felt her hands grasping his butt, but he stared at the picture.

_What was the old man thinking when giving away a possession that was old as the restaurant he opened those many years ago? Can that vehicle continue to tell the tales despite its silence? If the seats could talk, what would say? What can it say?_

The image disappeared from the vision as L grabbed Lincoln and placed on the floor. He watched her hungry eyes aiming for one place in particular. "I hope you don't have any plans because I am hungry and you are on the menu."

Lincoln watched as L disrobed her attire. He closed his eyes after that. As he felt his pants being pulled down, he imagined his secret place. The secret place where he can become trapped in the soul of Miles Davis and Coltrane. He was cruising in his Old Girl with his father. The destination, he was unsure.

Whatever it was, it would have been better than the cold, hard cement floor in the back office of the tavern.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys. I have hoped you enjoyed this chapter of Can't Keep Myself Away. I am going to be honest. This is going to be a slow read. If you have read my other stories, then you understand how I operate. I would like this story to have a suspenseful, realistic feeling. Also, there is not always going to be smut in every chapter. If you are looking for only smut, then look elsewhere. This story follows Lincoln in his perilous journey of being an escort and what is going to face in his journey. For fans who understand my caliber, then it is going to be worthwhile. Please continue to subscribe, comment, bookmark, and/or kudos. Also, feel free to check out my other works.
> 
> Like every story, this is a work of fiction. I don't support and/or endorse any of the activities depicted in this story. If you can deviate fantasy from reality, please continue reading. More coming soon. Thanks, God bless, and Happy Reading!


	2. The Strawberry Letter

As long as Lincoln has known L, she has always been a dominant woman. She refused to play by the rules; where societal standards were adapted from the hands of men. That wasn't her nature. Therefore, she wanted to live on how she wanted her rules to be. L was a very ominous and mysterious beauty. She has been highly praised by those who have seen her or had their encounters with her. Often, she was referred as the Queen of the Nile. Her olive-like skin reminded those of tinted porcelain. She loved the compliments, absorbing whatever was given to her. Many asked L on what she did to maintain such beauty, especially for her age. She always smiled or pursed her lips. She releases a light chuckle before saying that it was a gift from God.

Not bad for a woman who claimed to be agnostic.

L took Lincoln by the hand and followed her behind the curtain which led into the private sector of her office. For those who were unfamiliar with her office, no one would've known that there was a door hidden behind the curtain. It wasn't an ordinary door for it had to be opened from the inside. A woman clothed in a black apron and covered by a mask was there at all times awaiting the signal of L to come inside.

L pressed her face against the door and made two distinctive knocks. It was the cue of the masked woman to open the door. Lincoln had to hold on because immediately opening the door, there were a flight of stairs. Lincoln look forward while the woman closed the door and stood at her post. The sound of trance filled the darkened hallway. Well, it was not quite dark. A hue of blue and purple peered from certain areas of the hallway.

L intertwined her hands with Lincoln as he followed her to where she wanted to go. Where she could freely be herself without the haunting eyes of others, her personal space. She nicknamed it her personal space because it was where she could explore her sexuality, her inhibitions, without being judged.

Although she may be a confident woman, Lincoln thought, but she does have areas where she faced insecurity. Lincoln knew about that even as he met her those few years ago. He never called her out on it. He didn't care. Even if he did, he knew there was going to be punishment. One major rule when working with L: never question her orders.

"Sit," she told him with a command.

Lincoln sat on the queen-sized bed that was covered in red silk. The silk sheets were soft and slick. Very smooth to the touch. He concluded that these were imported. L believed in having the finest things. He got himself comfortable. The drill was the same as always. He scooted his back until he made it to the headboard. He took off his shoes and his socks. He reached for his pants where he had unbuttoned. He unbuttoned his shirt. That was all he was allowed to do. L wanted assurance that she wanted responsibility in handling him.

"Glad to see you know your rightful place," she said while licking her lips. She kept his eyes on him. She had hungry eyes. She gripped her arm to display self-control. At any moment, L could unleash on Lincoln. But, she maintained her composure. She shifted her hips to show that she was preparing for him.

He would be a liar if he didn't find L attractive. L had striking features. Even as she gets older, she gets better with age, at least that was his opinion. Her beauty reminded him of Sandra Oh or Lucy Liu. Admittedly, he was unfamiliar with prominent Asian actresses, but nevertheless he did look at her at some form of attractiveness. Her charm was alluring, using her sweet southern drawl to pull strangers in. It was captivating on such sweet, tender words of her; like cutting butter with a hot knife, can draw a person to her. It didn't take much for L to pull a stranger into bed. Be as it were a man or a woman, she was seasoning to the flesh. And every time when she was finished, they always come back for more.

However, being with L was a limited time only. She never liked mixing business with pleasure. However, with Lincoln, he was something special. It was never a one-time thing with him. She came back for more after more after more.

L chuckled while removing the clothes did she remain wearing when she was warming him up in the office. She slowly disrobe, giving herself tension. She liked that. She wanted that patience. To know that supper was right there, but they were unable to get it. Though the glowish blue lights made it hard to see her, but he can see her toothy grin. She swayed her arms and did a slight dance while taking off her lacy black bra. Her nipples were inward, but were swelling with all of it might. Her stomach was smooth and firm. Lincoln was aware of her working out. L had trainers to keep her body in shape. Every now and again, Lincoln was apart of her regimen.

The only thing she had on was her black lacy panties. Lincoln saw how soaked it was. Her liquid releasing the tension she was having for him. If L didn't want him, her body was a sure contrast.

She crawled to the bed like a lion who was approaching its prey. She transitioned her eyes to her bedroom eyes. And with the stroke of her finger, she whispered to Lincoln. "Come."

Lincoln swallowed before crawling to his mistress. "Come to me." She says with deeper, but silent voice. When approaching her, she slowly took off his clothes. She kissed his chest while raising his arms to get out of his shirt. She used her free hand to grasp his dick and massaging it. Lincoln's lips quivered, releasing a moan as the result.

She chuckled. "Thank God I warmed you up earlier, didn't I." Lincoln remained silent, entranced by the warm palms of L massaging his dick. L looked at Lincoln. Although he was lanky, he was very muscular. Since high school, he had kept in shape. At one time, he had dreams of being a bodybuilder. However, those dreams became derailed after the death of his father.

"You always kept a lovely body," she said. "But, I liked it better when it was sort of _childish_." She stroked her finger against the ridges of his chest. She planted kisses at his nipple. She licked it before tugging with his teeth. With each stroke of her heavy tongue and each stroke of her hand on his dick, he knew that it was not long before he climaxed.

L went to his shoulder blade where she saw his tattoo. On it, written in black and in cursive stated, _For whom the son sets free, is free indeed_. She didn't give a reaction, but begin licking on his statement. "Such a clever, remarkable tattoo." She went to his neck where she began giving him light bite mark. "Do you see me as a problem? Do I keep you in bondage."

Lincoln flinched but remained still. Another thing about L. He can't call any shots until he was granted permission.

"Answer the question, boy," she said while sucking on the skin.

"It's...it's...it's just a statement," he responded while gritting his teeth.

"A statement for what," she asked him.

Lincoln didn't like how often she asked him about the tattoo. It was always the same question and he have always giving her the same answer. He tried telling her that there was no significance of that statement. However, something about that bothered her. Like it was a black mark, a smudge. Like it did not belong to him. It should have never been on him.

Better yet, she couldn't have the authority of it.

"Silly boy," she told him. "I keep you protected. I take care of you." She indented further into his neck with her teeth. "Why need a silly statement for something that you already know."

L gripped his dick tighter. It's throbbing caused leakage on his boxers. "You belong to me, Lincoln." She gripped tighter. "You love me and I love you." She broke the skin into his neck and gripped his shaft downward. "So, you don't need reminders like that on you, do you?"

Lincoln let out a slight cry as he climaxed in her hand. He mustered as much as he could to keep standing. However, L wrapped her arms tightly around him for him to lean on.

"There it is, child. Let it out," she said while stroking his forehead. "Lean on me. Lean on your mistress. Remember that I will take good care of you. Remember on how much I can make you feel." She pecked him on the neck. Lincoln winced from the pain as blood was dripping down his neck. She continued kissing the wound, while licking it. "Yummy!" She took Lincoln's cheeks and put his lips into hers. Lincoln tasted her contents while she continued to press her breasts on his chest.

He doesn't know what spark or what spell she did whenever she put his body on her, but he had the primal urge to procreate. L took notice when he was bucking at her thighs while leaning on her shoulder.

"Silly me," she said. "I forget to give you what you want."

Lincoln knew that wasn't true. That was her way of showing dominance. She never ever liked anyone giving her pleasure unless giving permission.

L went around Lincoln and lied on her back. Lincoln remained still on his knees while feeling strange from the contents of the semen in his pants. Also, seeing that L was preparing for herself to get pleasure.

She sat up and extended her hands to his pants. She pulled down his pants, leaving him exposed to the elements. Lincoln felt the cool breeze of his legs along with the sensation of his soiled boxers. "Don't think you won't need these anymore." She laughed as she pulled down his boxers. Lincoln helped removing the boxers before tossing them aside. He edged forward where her eyes met with his dick.

"Look what you did to yourself," she said amusingly. "You made quite a mess. Yes, you did. Oh, yes." She give him a slight tsk. She lightly patted the phallus of dick while caressing his balls. "I think this boy needs a cleaning. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, mistress," he said while shaking his head. Lincoln was at a point that either if he kept going or he can leave. He didn't care. Whatever he had to do to keep L happy.

L grab his buttocks as she shoved his dick into her mouth. Her mouth served as a warm pocket as she was cleaning the remnants of his semen. She thrusted her mouth while licking the contents. She swiveled her tongue around the phallus, returning it to her attention. L was good at performing oral sex, Lincoln thought. She used the tip of her tongue to hit the hole of his dick, which made him flinched.

Lincoln released a sound, but her grasp unable him to leave. To keep him stimulated, she used one of her hands to massage his cavity. His eyes widened, causing him to release a harsh, raspy moan.

"You are taking it better than you used to be," she said in between strokes. "I used to only get in one finger before you release into my mouth. Now, you can handle this longer. I am training you well, my _alpha_."

Lincoln started thrusting his dick into her mouth as it was becoming hot by her tongue. At any moment, he was close to climaxing.

"I...am...getting...close," said Lincoln with his pleading eyes. L loved when Lincoln got that way for she knew that he was in her grasp.

"Come for me," she said as she tightened her lips at the shaft before sticking an additional finger into his ass.

Lincoln exerted much energy as he could while depositing his sperm into her bank. Each time he spurted, she tightened her lips to drink his white nectar. She continued until his climax ceased and so did his pleasure. She released her mouth from his dick before swallowing his contents.

"So rich and pleasant," she said. "Very delectable. Didn't expect any less." She rubbed his dick with her palm. "You are such a mighty force. I am afraid of the girl who gets impregnated from you."

He frowned when hearing the comment. She looked. "Please take my apologies. Sometimes, I forget."

Once again, he knew she didn't mean. But to avoid the further awkwardness, she said it to spare his feelings. At least she was somewhat considerate of that.

She returned to the headboard where she spread her legs, exposing her pussy. The musk released from it was enticing, very appealing to the nose and to his tastebuds. He was very familiar to with her moistened cave, but has yet to achieve giving her climax.

"You are thousands of miles away before you can give me that kind of pleasure to make me _cum_." She always tells him. Only one person who able to achieve that status and he is no longer part of this world.

Lincoln stared into the moist haven that she called her pussy. Seeing the clear nectar releasing itself from the folds made Lincoln feel strange and making his loins linger for more.

L laughed. "I can tell that you want to make _cum_ , do you?"

Lincoln shook his head.

"You are still thousands of miles away before you can give me that kind of pleasure," she purred. She extended her hands for Lincoln to lie on her chest. Feeling her warm mounds reminded him of soft pillows. He nestled into it like a son would to his mother.

"If you make the agreement to work that deal with me, then I can give you permission to give me that kind of pleasure," she told him while twirling his white hair.

"It doesn't matter if I agree or not. That is not my place. I must do what you tell me anyway," he said very quietly.

She rubbed her nose onto his head. "Very good alpha. So proud that you know your place."

He let out a quiet sigh. He was grateful that it was unnoticeable to L.

L grab his dick and rubbed it against her valley. She let out a small moan. "You know how it works, don't you?"

He shook his head but hesitated. "But mistress, the condom."

She whispered. "Never mind the small stuff. You are too much of a thinker." She sighed. "And so was my son. I often think why we couldn't see eye to eye with each other."

She reached for his butt and jammed his dick inside of her cavern. Lincoln's eyes widened into tears as the folds of her pussy were embracing his dick. It gave him a sensation that will never compare to the multitudes of women he had slept with, professionally.

Admittedly, out of the many encounters he had, L was always first in his book.

"You need to take the role of thrusting, doll," she commanded to him.

He thrust his dick inside at a slow pace. She didn't like fast strokes until he was close to climax. She enjoys watching his facial expressions whenever they have sex. She either chuckle, laugh, or give pouty expressions. Of course, it was embarrassing to Lincoln, but enjoyable to L.

Lincoln felt his hips buckled as her pussy folds entrapped his dick. While focusing on giving her pleasure, L was stroking his hair. "That's it my fair skunk, give in to your mistress. Pump with all of your might."

His lips quivered, his hands were trembling. He was becoming tired at every time he was stroking inside of her. Wanting to climax, he was picking up the pace.

"That is it," she cried. "Keep going. All the way to where you belong."

He knew where she was hinting. The important part where it counted. The many times he had deposited his seeds there. He was very fortunate to not to receive a withdraw.

His body temperature became warm feeling her hot body on him. She continue to kiss him on the neck. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." She kept screaming at him. "That's it. You can do it. Try to make me come. Come on, Lincoln."

Another sign of L whenever they have in encounters. The transition from being authoritative to being a cheerleader.

Lincoln started thrusting faster as soon his climax was approaching. The bed started creaking. Her hands were on his sweaty back, indenting her claws into his back. Lincoln was prepared for that. She only did that when showing that Lincoln was performing well.

"Come for your mistress, come for your mistress," she said in between cries.

"I am coming, L," he said.

She took his face and planted his lips with his. At the contact of her lips, he climaxed inside of her. She bucked her hips so that she was able to take all of his seeds as he continued coming. When he was finishing depositing, he took his dick from her pussy and collapsed on the bed next to L.

L and Lincoln both panting from their encounter. Lincoln was rubbing his chest as he was trying his hardest to breathe.

"Here is some water," said L. She reached him a bottle of water. In no time, Lincoln drank the water as if it was the greatest taste in the world. When finishing, he placed the bottle on the nightstand next to the bed. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and lied on L's stomach.

He clung tight to her stomach while he was massaging his shoulder. "Very good, my child. You have always been the best at this. I have trained you well."

"Thank you, mistress," he replied as now he was trying to maintain his strength. It was their custom to sleep together following sex. However, he did his best to stay awake. This was only stop number one. There was a place that he needed to be following this.

He just hoped that the certain person wasn't disappointed.

Lincoln got up from the bed and reached for his clothes. L was surprised that he was following their routine. "What's the matter, Lincoln," she asked with true sincerity. "Where are you going? You are going to leave me in the cold."

He returned to her and gave her a kiss on the lips. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to pull him back to the bed. However, Lincoln pulled back. "I am sorry, mistress. I really am. I really have to be somewhere."

She gave a slight pout. "Somewhere better than my warm embrace."

Deciding not to wear his soiled boxers, he went commando and put on his pants. L reached over and began kissing his back. "Tell...me...what...is...so...important...that...we...can't...continue...my...alpha?"

L knew his right spots. Lincoln was trying his hardest to resist. His brain succeeded over his erection. He sighed. "I have to go to the train station and pick up my son."

She took a step back. She let out a slight chuckle. "Oh, that is right. Your ferocious snake did give some girl a run for their money."

Lincoln remained quiet. He finally got a hold of his shirt and began putting it on. L continued to hold on to him in the process. "Normally, this would be a violation of our agreement." She sighed. "But, alas, I can't stand in the way between a father and his son." She gave him a peck where his wound became a hickey. "I wish I can give my son that kind of affection. Wherever he could be."

She reached to her side of the bed where the nightstand was. She went inside and pulled out a small, thick, brown envelope. She threw it next to Lincoln. "In it is about $6000. Your payment for the month with your clients. She returned to the nightstand and wrote a check. "Here is some funds for your child as well."

L handed it to Lincoln but put his hand to stop her. "I can't do that. That is not right."

"Remember, my child. You work for me. All expenses are paid. Now, take care of your son," she said while putting the check into his hand.

"Go while I am still not in the mood to fuck," she told him. "You will be hearing from me in a couple of days. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Lincoln.

L snapped her fingers where the masked woman returned to her post. "Since Lincoln on his way. When you return, come see me. I need to release some leftover stress." The latter half she purred.

"Yes, mistress," responded the masked woman. She took Lincoln by his hand and took him to the exit.

Lincoln exited the tavern where he felt the pressure of the morning sun beaming into his face. He spit on the ground while holding his jacket as he returned to his car. He walked around to the passenger side of his Chevy Caprice he nicknamed Old Girl. The driver's side of Old Girl didn't work so well, so he had to use the passenger side instead. He got himself to the driver's side where he saw his cell phone sitting on the dashboard.

He purposefully left it. Another thing of L's: never involve outside business.

He unlocked the code of his phone and was met with a text message. He had already known it was from the mother of his child. The woman he regretfully had interactions with. The woman he rather be dead than anything else. He had a self-deprecating smile because the only blessing that came from that was the birth of his son.

_Why shouldn't I be surprised on you not showing up on time? You have better pray that I don't call to grant full custody of our son. Knowing of whatever plans you have, you just better have your ass at the Amtrak before 2 PM today. Or else, you will not see the little one._

_Ronnie Anne_

It was the first thing that made him actually laugh. He looked at his watch. It was a quarter after eleven.

"I have time," he told himself.

He reached into the console where he grabbed his keys. On the keyring was a small picture of his family. At least, when they were a family. He kept it around because it too belonged to his father. He shook his head before putting the keys into the ignition.

He went into the glovebox where he had his cassette tapes. Old Girl did not have a CD player, which didn't matter to Lincoln. He pulled out a mixtape that his sister, Lori, made for him before she moved out west to Portland.

He put the tape into the cassette. The sounds of the Brothers Johnson playing "Strawberry Letter 23" filled the car. Lincoln began to bob into the tempo. He put the windows down and put the car into drive. As he cruised down Detroit's Highland Park neighborhood, a neighborhood where it has served as his home since moving here, he took his mind away to sing along with the tune.

_Hello my love, I heard a kiss from you_

_Red magic satin playing near, too_

_All through the morning rain I gaze, the sun doesn't shine_

_Rainbows and waterfalls run through my mind_

He concentrated on the road while making his trek to the place of his former memories. He looked at the mirror where he kept his rosary and the image of he and his father next to Old Girl. Many other things were in his mind: his family, his son, L, the deal he made with her, the operation he has the housewives. So many things that infiltrated the young nineteen year old.

He turned up the volume so he can the fill the void. Even it was just for a little while.


	3. Through the Wire

His last memory of his father dated from the time he was sixteen years old. It was on a Saturday. His birthday was a couple of days away and he went down to the basement to ask him a question. He was unsure of the question, concluding that it was not of importance. What was special about that date was his father was down there cleaning. The sound of brushes hitting the wall became a regular tune on his weekend's off from work. The basement was long overdue for a cleaning. Asking the girls would have been a disservice. Lincoln wondered why he didn't ask him for his assistance. Probably slipped his mind he concluded.

As he took the last step, his father quickly tilted his head, giving him the usual warm smile whenever someone he loved entered. But, something about that smile was a different than usual. Anyone who knew someone could pick it up. It look staged as if he was putting up a front to hide his true emotions. To this very day, Lincoln regretted on never asking about his plastic smile. Maybe there were things on his mind as well, he thought to himself. There were many things; typical for an older teenager, but nevertheless, it was his father. His father bothered him with questions when it was out of concern. Why didn't he do the same? It is too bad he could never get his answer.

Lincoln's father told him that his wedding anniversary with their mother was approaching. It was going to be on a following Monday. He wanted to clean the old basement to prepare a special event for the two of them. Lincoln turned his head at the supplies his father had in plastic bags on the floor, next to his work desk. They were cheap party supplies with the hint of a fancy soiree. Lincoln laughed to himself on his father's inexpensive tendencies. But, being a father of eleven children can do that.

When seeing the Christmas light, Lincoln asked his father if he wanted help. His father stopped the brushing. He was appreciative of Lincoln's service. He spent part of the afternoon decorating the basement with Christmas light. They were collecting dust over the years. His father was happy that they were being put to use. After that was done, Lincoln helped his father cleaned the rest of the basement. His father brushed the floors. He asked Lincoln to clean the walls.

While cleaning, his father asked Lincoln if they could listen to some music. Lincoln shook his head in agreement. His father went into a box where he had his old cassette player. He reached for a tape and pressed play. Suddenly, his father became relaxed of hearing songs from his teenage era.

The music had a steady beat and a great groove. A huge contrast to the music that Lincoln was presently accustomed to. He asked his father about the particular song he eventually learned to be a love song.

It was called "Weekend Girl," by the S.O.S. Band. His father hummed the lyrics as he applied more bleach to the floor. Lincoln asked on its significance as he watched his father awkwardly danced to it. His father told him that it was the song that was playing in the bowling alley where he had met his mother.

His mother was working at the register and his father was a visitor. When seeing her for the first time, he said that he dropped the bowling ball on his shoe, making a loud racket. His mother caught his eye and laughed from it. His father, being embarrassed, played coy and hopped like it was normal on what he was doing. When she came to him and asked about the hop. His response was that he was "hopping to the beat." She giggled and she introduced herself as Rita. In response, he introduced himself as Lynn. So, they spent the evening conversing until closing time. Mustering the courage before leaving, he asked her out. She said that she couldn't go out on the weekdays because of her job. However, she didn't mind going out on a Saturday.

The following Saturday, his father took his mother to a movie. Coincidentally, "Weekend Girl," was played at the movie theater. For the next few Saturdays, the S.O.S. Band serenaded the duo through date after date after date. Several Saturdays later, his father proposed to his mother was playing "Weekend Girl" in the background.

Lincoln smiled on how music can depict a relationship. His father explained that there are some music that can remind him of a loved one, or grief, or happiness, and the like. As much he tried to convey, Lincoln couldn't understand. His father's final response was "someday, you will find a girl that can give you the type of emotions like the music that I play. Music that gives you emotions come from the heart."

After hearing that, Lincoln returned to cleaning. Once he was finished, he left the basement. He gave his father one final look as he was making the arrangements for the surprise anniversary dinner. He smiled before departing the basement.

That was the last time he had spoken and seen his father alive.

Lincoln didn't go to the funeral. It wasn't that he wasn't invited. It was that he did not want to go. He couldn't go. Seeing his father lying still in a pine box he called his coffin. He did not want that to be the final image of his father. He wanted the images of seeing him singing to "Weekend Girl" and getting things set for his special anniversary dinner to be the final image in his brain.

He was faced with ridicule from his family, especially from some of his sisters. His mother understood. She, too, wanted to remember her husband for what he was instead of being six feet under.

It was a little after 1:30 in the afternoon when he took the exit off the interstate to the town of Royal Woods. The sign at the foot of the highway exit, standing proudly in blue and green welcoming the visitors and the residents to the town. If he could, he would ram Old Girl in the convoluted sign. He digressed that thought. Old Girl has taken enough beatings in her lifetime, even after the old man.

Royal Woods was a city that was lost in time. It was a very antique feeling. Everything was the same before he was born, during his childhood, and after his departure. A city where care forgot. Better yet a city where care couldn't give a damn, he thought. If it were up to care, it would capsize this city into an oblivion or make it an island away from reality. Returning to this town gave him some ill memories after his father's death. However, that wasn't the only reason for his leaving the town.

There were other things.

Rain coated the parking lot as he drove into an empty space. There were plenty of empty spaces at the train station. Not many used the train like they used to. Many are finding better alternatives for transportation or buying cheaper, affordable cars he concluded. It didn't mattered to him as he stepped out of the car. His slamming the driver's door caused a few crows to fly away from its dinner. A road waffle that used to be a squirrel or a chipmunk. He couldn't tell. The crows were mid-feast before his arrival. He gave the fallen rodent a sign of the cross before sitting on the trunk.

The sound of Miles Davis was playing in his cassette tape. He thought a little music could lighten the mood until the train arrived. He reached into his coat pocket to retrieve the pack of Marlboros. Admittedly, he wasn't really a smoker.

He only used it when he was facing stress.

He put his lighter back into his pocket and dangled his legs as he waited for Ronnie Anne to come to the station.

Their son was named Mason Santiago Loud. Originally, Loud was not on the birth certificate. She named him after her boyfriend who she thought was the father of her child. It was a month after his birth when the boyfriend began noticing features that didn't match his. For one, he was black. Mason had lighter features of a Hispanic, but not enough to show he was black. The boyfriend demanded a DNA test. Within a few weeks, he learned he was not the father and broke up with Ronnie Anne.

By that time, Lincoln was living in Detroit when he received the phone call that fateful early morning. He was awoken by a shriek of tears. She cried onto the receiver apologizing to him and telling him that Mason was his son. Lincoln did not react the same way about the results. He was not surprised about Mason being his son.

There was an incident between the two. He doesn't like talking about. Part of it was because she was partially responsible for the path that he ended up as a result.

He looked at his watch. He always looked at his watch. The Golden Fossil brand was his pride and joy. It was the first thing he had bought on his own. It was the first thing he bought after his first encounter with a client. He was seventeen years old at the time.

He sighed as he flicked the cigarette to the concrete. He was reaching for another until he heard the sound of the train approaching the track. He watched the train proudly screamed its arrival before coming to a halt. Upon its stop, the doors opened and out came the many passengers. They were coming from Chicago.

Ronnie Anne, as well, left for Chicago after Mason was born. She moved in with her strict grandmother. At least, she had a valid excuse for her departure.

He hopped off of the car and made his trek to the train platform. He watched the people exited the train to go to their own journey. It wasn't until he saw a small, candid figure that had the similar image of when he was a kid.

"Daddy," screamed the child as he tiptoed off of the train and into his father's arms.

"Mase, my boy," he responded while tightly embracing his son. He rubbed his white hair and flicked his pointy nose. "So happy to see you. Daddy missed you."

"I missed you, too," said Mason with the smile still beaming on his face.

Lincoln picked up his son and carried him as he waited for his son's mother to arrive. He made a promise to himself to not display his true feelings of Ronnie Anne around his son. It was important to think for Mason that his father cares about his mother, even though he didn't.

Lincoln paused while nestling his son when he saw his son's mother leave the train. She displayed the same smug look she gave him the very day when learning that he was the father of their child. He questioned the contrast of her crying on the phone versus meeting in person about it. He concluded that her family gave her a hard time about the pregnancy. They were teenagers when it happened. Lincoln thought that she should grateful for his taking responsibility.

Without fail, he gave her child support. He had visitations right with his son. Anything Mason needed, Lincoln was there to supply. Despite her treatment to him, it was all about Mason and nothing more.

"I am glad you finally show up for a change," she responded without looking at him in the eye.

He ignored her comment and left the platform. He, Mason, and Ronnie Anne returned to Old Girl. Upon seeing her, Ronnie Anne's face furrowed.

"You are still driving that piece of crap," questioned Ronnie Anne.

Lincoln frown. "Watch your language in front of Mason."

"He is three. He knows what it means."

"It still doesn't make it right."

Becoming defensive, she took Mason from him, which caused him to cry. "If you don't like my way, then I can carry my ass back."

Lincoln gave her a stern look but kept his cool to not further disturb his son. "Ronnie Anne, I am not going to fight with you. I am not here for a fight. I am here to spend the weekend with my son. Is that okay with you?"

She scoffed. "Fine."

"Good," he smiled. He went into the trunk to get the car seat. He went to the back seat to have it installed. He grabbed Mason and tightly secured it. He opened the passenger's side door to get into the car. Ronnie Anne chuckled when witnessing that.

"You still haven't fixed this shit!"

Lincoln frowned once again.

"I am sorry. You haven't fixed this yet."

"Thank you."

Lincoln put the car into gear and went into the drive. He left the parking lot and entered the street. He turned on the cassette tape where he was playing The Delfonics. Ronnie Anne scanned the car. She kept the same expression with exiting the train. Lincoln ignored it. He just wanted to get his son comfortable so he can take Ronnie Anne back to the station.

"You still playing the old school," she asked him while pulling out a cigarette from her purse.

"It's the best school," he responded with pride.

She chuckled. "You are just like your old man."

"And darn proud of it."

She took a puff of her cigarette before discarding the ash in the ashtray. "You haven't been here often, have you."

"Nope," he said. "I never have any reasoning for being back here."

She sat back against the seat as she getting herself comfortable. "Me either, nothing has been the same. Not since leaving for Chicago."

"Have you found work yet?"

"I did," she said while looking at the window. "I even enrolled into community college."

"Good for you."

"Is that an insult?"

"No, of course not," said Lincoln. "Someone from this town has to make it in something."

"What don't you go to college?"

"Don't have the heart for it," he said. "Why waste the taxpayer's money for me when there is another student who can do better than I?"

She flicked her cigarette. "Wise choice. Then yet again, you have always been wise."

"Learned it from the best," he said with pride as he looked at his father's picture. "Listen, the park is a few blocks away. Why not let little Mason gets some exercise." He looked at his son. "He is getting kind of chubby."

Ronnie Anne slapped him on his back. "Quit playing around. It is just baby fat."

"He is a baby and he is fat. Just saying," he said while laughing.

Lincoln drove to the park where it had a duck pond. Lincoln returned to the trunk where he had a stroller for Mason. He reached for Mason. Mason smiled and giggled while he was being fastened into the stroller. Ronnie Anne pushed the stroller as they entered the park. Because of the rain, there wasn't many visitors. That was fine with Lincoln as he went and grabbed some crackers and gave it to Mason. Lincoln watched Mason throwing crackers to the ducks as they were eating them. Lincoln find a spot where he can watch Mason and he can have some alone time with Ronnie Anne.

He sat next to Ronnie Anne on the concrete bench. Ronnie Anne was watching Mason while Lincoln reached into his pocket to pull out the brown envelope.

Ronnie Anne was surprised at the envelope.

"What is this," she asked.

"In there is about $6000," he said. "It is yours."

Ronnie Anne pulled out the funds and was shocked at it. "This is more than the usual you give me monthly." She turned to him with curiosity. "Where are you getting this extra cash?"

"It matters not," said Lincoln. "But, I want you to get this money and find better living arrangements."

"What is the matter of where I live," she questioned with a hint of feeling insulted.

"It is not about where you live, rather who you are living with," he said while keeping his eye on Mason.

"Why do you care on who I date," questioned Ronnie Anne while raising her eyebrows.

"Honestly, I don't," replied Lincoln. "But, I do care on who my son is looking at."

"How I live or who I date is my business," she protested.

He stared her directly in her eyes. "You must not pick up on what I have said. So, let me aid you in your comprehension. I don't your boyfriend influencing my son."

"Why the hell do you care about him," she said. "He pays."

"Do you think I am stupid, Ronnie Anne," asked Lincoln. "Your grandmother calls me with the information on what your man does or what he does to you."

"You and my abuela need to get a fucking life," said Ronnie Anne.

"If that _gringo_ touches a single hair on my child," he said. "I will bring my ass to Chicago and I am coming for him and you. Understand?"

Ronnie Anne was taken aback but was too prideful to stand down. "Coming to me with threats?"

"Don't be mistaken, sweetheart," he said. "Lincoln Loud doesn't make threats or promises. He makes guarantees. If that _puto_ touches my son, I am coming out there. Easy as that."

Angered and flustered, Ronnie Anne threw the envelope back at Lincoln. "Fuck you, Lincoln. Fuck you." She stood up. "You are not coming to me with this preaching and shit. Think you are better than me because you have a fancy job and you can afford shit. But not enough to take care of your raggedy car, to take care of your damn sisters, and the time where you couldn't get your mother out of rehab."

He stood up. "Keep my family's name out of my mouth."

She smiled while placing her hands on her hips. "Oi! What's the matter? Don't like it when someone else involves your family shit, do you?" She scoffed at him. "I may can't pick the best of man. At least I know when to stop my habits."

"Fuck you, Ronnie. Say that shit again. Say it one more time."

She rushed toward him, grabbed his fist, and placed it on her chin. "What are you going to do about it, Lincoln. Hit me? Yeah, hit me. Hit me right here. I need a reason why I can keep your son away from you."

"Mommy, daddy?"

Lincoln and Ronnie Anne stared as Mason was looking at them. He dropped the crackers from his hand and began crying. Lincoln ran to Mason while hugging him.

"It's okay, sweetheart," he said. "Mommy and me were playing. I wasn't going to do anything bad to mommy. I love your mommy very much. Do you understand me?"

Mason nodded his head while he nestled on his father's shoulder. Lincoln continued to hold him, do his best in comforting his son.

Lincoln took Ronnie Anne and Mason out for dinner. They went to the same burger joint that they went in their childhood. He took Mason out for ice cream. They even had time to see a movie.

It was a few minutes before eight in the evening when he drove into the parking lot of the train station. He put the car into park before turning off the ignition. He looked into the rear view mirror and saw Mason sleeping in his car seat.

Lincoln looked at Ronnie Anne. He reached into his pocket and gave her the money.

"I don't want it."

"Keep it."

"I say I don't want it."

"Keep it."

"I said…"

"Listen," he told while keeping his calming composure. "I didn't bring you up here to argue. I just really wanted to see my son." He took a breath. "Mason doesn't come from perfect parents. At least, I am trying to do what I can to support him."

"Then, start showing up for a change. Mason can't live just on money."

"You're right, but he shouldn't be exposed to what your man is doing."

She sighed. "You're right. But when you are in the life…."

"Look, just think of Mason first."

She took a long, heavy sigh. "Okay, alright." She opened the door and stepped out of the car. "I will pick him up on Tuesday at this spot. Be here on time."

"Okay."

"Lincoln?"

"Yeah?"

"In a funny way, I am glad that you are the father."

Lincoln gave a slight smile. Ronnie Anne reached for the envelope before kissing Lincoln on the cheek.

"Later, loser," she said.

He threw her a peace sign before turning on the ignition. She walked toward the train platform as Lincoln departed out of the parking lot. As he was making his way back to Detroit, he received a phone call.

He reached his cell phone and saw it was L.

_A couple of days, my ass._ He thought to himself before picking it up.

"Hello," he said.

She purred. "Hello, my child. You know I've missed you."

Lincoln remained quiet.

"Are you enjoying time with your little one," she asked.

"I am," he said. "Doing a little bonding right now, as we speak."

"Charmed," she said. "I can't wait for you to dote that kind of love on me."

He heard her laugh from the receiver. He blushed. "What gives you the pleasure of calling this evening, mistress."

"First, to hear your sweet loving voice. Second, it is time."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you able to stop by on Monday?"

Another thing about L. When she has questions, they are really demands.

"I have Mason until Tuesday."

"Well, look at you being Parent of the Year."

Lincoln knew she was thinking as she tapped on the phone. An annoying habit of hers.

"I can come and see you on Monday. Shall we say after 9 o'clock? Mason should be asleep and won't disturb us, would he."

"Mason is an early sleeper. Not even a 747 can wake him up."

"Yummy," she purred. "See you then, my _alpha_."

She hung up without saying another word. Lincoln watched the orange sky transitioning into a darker color. He opted not to play any music so he can let Mason sleep. He watched him sleeping soundly in the car seat. It looked he did not have a care in the world.

"I pray that you are the light that changes the world, my dear Mase. Don't make the ill mistakes mommy and daddy have done."

He saw the written check that L wrote out for him. He tore it into pieces before discarding it onto the highway and into the fading evening.


	4. The Blue Train

A cesspit of desolation, neglect, and economic ruin that serves as a testament and cautionary tale regarding the follies of bloated union pensions and stagnant business models. A ghost city defined by a past economy that relied on the automobile industry and manufacturing, and it will take a lot of work to rebuild and redefine the city. A rough and tumble with a gritty crust, but refuses to say "no." A book that has a battered cover, but pages full of great words. Finally, it is the city that a bunch of people complain and talk about without even stepping on the city limits or its refined borders. Detroit, the Casablanca of the midwest, the Motor City, has been Lincoln's home since moving to the city when he was sixteen years old, the night before his seventeenth birthday.

He entered the city with Old Girl, forty dollars in his pocket, and a dream. The latter of which sounded very cliche, but it was worth holding on versus something that was tangible. He couldn't return back home. Even if he did, would he be accepted. Since his father's funeral, he was met with heavy eyes whenever he entered the room. He felt the surge of negative energy penting up on him. In return, he gave them a blank stare. What could he say? How could he say it? Didn't they realize that grief affects people in different ways? Nevertheless, he returned them silence.

One evening when returning home from school, he went inside of his bedroom to gather any belongings that were valuable to him. In a hurry, he put them in garbage bags. He left the key on the mantle, left the house, and into Old Girl. He left his childhood home without even once looking back.

He hasn't returned back to his childhood home since.

Hope was the only thing he dreamed and leaned on. Especially, the first rough nights sleeping in the car under many of Detroit's overpasses. From ducking policemen to getting away from gang members to local concerned citizens, Lincoln was giving an opportunity to what Detroit have to offer. Rather he wanted it or not. Tired of sleeping in his vehicle, he was able to find a homeless shelter called Detroit Rescue Mission in Midtown. It wasn't too far from the M-10 overpass where he was sleeping in his car. He found it as blessing for a place to stay, to eat, and most of all, to shower.

He told the facilitator that he was eighteen years old and was a high school dropout. The latter was technically true. The last time he was in class was the day of his father's death. He was called to the principal's office when being notified. He told her that he had no family and just wanted somewhere to be safe. As if she granted him amnesty, the rescue mission became home to Lincoln for the next couple of months.

The facilitator, named Mother Fukuoka, offered him a job washing dishes at the local diner. Being a middle child of eleven sisters, the job wasn't hard. He was grateful for being appreciated. Every day without fail he came to the job and worked his hardest. The manager saw his efforts and promoted him to shift manager, which gave him better opportunities for pay. He saw that as a blessing because it was around the same time when he learned that he had a son.

Thanks to Mother Fukuoka, she found Lincoln a place to live. He lived in a studio apartment closed to the rescue mission. A popular tenant with the landlord, Lincoln paid his bills punctually, he wasn't a disturbance, and he helped the landlord with duties when needed. He even began working on earning his.

Things were looking up for Lincoln until he got a phone call from his sister, Lori. He was notified that their mother attempted to take her own life. She was on a plane back to Royal Woods and she wanted him to come back also. She offered him a bus ticket and some money so that he could return. She said that she would send it through the Western Union. He told her the nearest store and he would go and get it.

He never did.

Lincoln didn't like talking about his mother. Their relationship wasn't horrible. It was very dry. The biggest problem he concluded with his mother was their lack of communication with each other. They were polar opposites, magnets that can never stick. At one point, they can be calm; and the next, they would be at each other's throats.

The last time they have spoken to each other was the night of their father's funeral. They argued to the point where the police got involved. An ambulance came as well. There was an incident. Lincoln spent the night at the hospital and his mother spent the night in jail.

He told the officer that the cut on his shoulder blade was an accident. She didn't mean to do it. Charges were dropped, but she still had to appear in court for the incident between him and the broken glass bottle.

His not returning to his mother's aid caused the relationship with his sisters to turn sour. Luna and Leni went through social media as a way to release their frustration out of their brother. Many of the sisters blocked their number to avoid further contact. The rest of the siblings didn't do anything. Many of them went on with their lives as if Lincoln didn't exist.

Lincoln understood and didn't blame them at all. However, the only sister who hasn't deserted him was Lori. Lori continued sending money to the same Western Union Lincoln told her. It got to the point where the grocery store reached Lincoln to retrieve the money. When he got the money, he returned it in an envelope with only her address. Inside was a note.

_Lori, you have always been the rock of this family. Now, let me stand on my own._

He didn't leave a signature.

A invisible wall was forming as he divided himself from the rest of his family. To seal the deal, he changed his cell phone number so that no one can have contact with Lincoln. If he remembered what his younger sister, Lisa, told him. He was the _unbearable vermin we are stuck with because we are too lazy to buy any traps._ If he was being a vermin, then wish granted. He didn't find any sadness on this separation. In fact, he wished them a happy life.

He successfully completed his G.E.D. program with a near perfect score. Mother Fukuoka suggested to take his S.A.T. He took it with reluctance. He didn't feel smart. He didn't find himself intelligent. If he did, he thought, then the situation was currently facing should have been different. Nevertheless, he took the test. A couple of weeks later, Mother Fukuoka ran into kitchen where he was volunteering to give him the good news of passing the test. His scores would have gotten him into any college in Michigan and beyond.

For a moment, he was bombarded with calls from Harvard, Stanford, Alabama State, LSU, University of Washington, Wayne State, and the like. Although flattered, Lincoln did not have the heart to go to college. He thought his passing of the test was "sheer luck." After plenty of convincing from Mother Fukuoka, he went with Wayne State University.

He enrolled in Wayne's College of Fine, Performing and Communication Arts. His decision to major in Art was because his fondness of drawing. He kept a notebook that only himself can see. In it were the depictions of his true feelings in artistic form. He attended classes, performed well academically, and favored well with faculty and classmates. He was even nominated for class president of the Freshman Student Government Association.

Things started to change near the end of Fall Semester when Lincoln came across L.

L entered his life the evening after returning home from class. His home was only walking distance from the university. He was a block away from the university, at a crosswalk, when he recognized the black Mercedes-Benz Class C300 stopped in front of him. It wasn't the first time seeing the Mercedes. He had seen it on multiple occasions. It was always during the time when he was in-between class or when he was walking to work or when he was going on. At first, he did not pay it any mind. He thought it was some millionaire looking for real estate.

Interesting how that thought was made a reality when the Mercedes pulled in front of him in the middle of the crosswalk. Inside, he saw the bodyguard, Black, and the backseat was the mysterious L.

She pursued her lips before licking them. The shade of red lipstick shining from the streetlamp above him. Her eyes, those beady almond eyes giving him the look of a predator. He remained still, frozen at the scene. She opened the door and he entered the Mercedes.

That was the last time he attended school. Through the course of time, he moved from Midtown and into Highland Park where he currently resides. He gave his job at the diner his final notice. He went to Mother Fukuoka to give her his final goodbye. He lied to her, explaining that he was going to "warmer climates." She blessed him and gave him a strong hug before departing.

Mother Fukuoka was the closest thing to a mother and a friend to Lincoln. Never judgemental, fair, stern, but very reasonable. To this very day, he appreciated every single thing he done for her. From time to time, he go to the shelter from a distance to see Mother Fukuoka. And as always, "she is doing God's work," he concluded before returning to his new life.

Belle Isle Park is the place where Lincoln can find solace. The island is a home away from home for him. A place he knew not many of his associates would find him. As much as L loved showboating rich housewives, she did not have any contacts in the area. Once upon a time, L exclusively used upper-class neighborhoods like Palmer Woods, Sherwood Forest in the North District and Lafayette Park and Indian Village in the Lower District. However, many concerned residents, especially the husbands were figuring out the whereabouts of their spouses. To avoid further suspicion, she moved from the upper middle-class areas to more urbanized zones and the suburbs.

That was how he and L met.

* * *

 

Lincoln was holding Mason's hand as they were exiting the deer exhibit at the Nature Zoo on the island. The father and son came on a good day because it was free admission for kids. Lincoln eased his mind as he took the role of father while showing Mason the zoo. Mason was like a kid in a candy store. Every time they stopped at an exhibit or a habitat, he asked his father for pictures. Rather it was the animal, him with the animal, or both of them with the animal. On occasion, he took selfies with his son on the cell phone. An elderly woman assisted them with a picture. The pair posed in front of a father and son deer. Mason held the peace sign and holding his balloon in the other hand. Lincoln joined by posing with the peace sign as well.

It was great to bury your worries from time to time, he thought to himself.

After leaving the zoo, the pair walked to a path where the Detroit River meets. He watched the many visitors heading to the zoo, the aquarium, the conservatory, and the like. Tired of being around crowds, he took his son to a more isolated part of the lake.

Lincoln gathered a couple of rocks for him and Mason. He took them to the edge of the river where he began throwing them.

"This is how you skip rock, Mase," he told him with a smile while tossing it in the river. "One, two, three," he said. "Not the best but I am not a pro of this."

"Lemme try, Pop-Pop," said Mason.

Mason only called Lincoln Pop-Pop around him. It was the same with him calling him Mase. They were special nicknames the duo made for each other.

Mason took a rock and jammed it hard into the river.

"Oh, man," cried Mason as he attempted to snap his finger.

Lincoln laughed. "You are trying too hard, Mase." He approached his son. "Let me show you how it works. It is a simple technique." He grabbed his son's little soft hand.

"Pop-Pop, we have the same hands," he said.

"That is true," replied Lincoln. "When you get big and strong like your Pop-Pop, you will have bigger hands."

Mason clapped his hands in excitement. "Yay!"

"Alright, back to this," said Lincoln. "Be light with the rock. Just treat it like paper. It is not heavy. Just be gentle."

"Okay," said Mason while sticking his tongue out; a habit he got from his father when he was concentrating. He tossed the rock and hit the water.

"One, two, three...four," cried Lincoln as he pointing. "See that, Mase. You did it! You even beat me!"

"I did it. I did it!" Mason clapped his hands. His cheeks were flushed and were brightly red. Lincoln smiled on how adorable he was. Although he looked like more of Ronnie Anne, but at least the hair and personality were of his.

Lincoln gave his son a high-five. The afternoon wind chill was picking up and he was getting out of breath. "Oh, God, I need to lie back."

Lincoln walked backward to the grass. He watched his son doing the same thing. Both lied back on the grass. They both took a sigh while looking into the sky.

"This is the life, Pop-Pop," said Mason.

"Preach it, brother," replied Lincoln.

Lincoln lied back and watch the clouds blend into the sky. He was really enjoying the quality time he was having with his son. It wasn't often he had it with him. So, he was soaking up every opportunity he could.

"Son?"

"Yeah."

"What do I always tell you what you are?"

"I am a leader!"

"What else?"

"I am not a follower."

"What else?"

"I can do anything."

"Why is that?"

"It is because I am smart."

"And?"

"Bright!"

"And?"

"A light to the world!"

Lincoln rubbed Mason's hair. "That is my boy."

He began to pull out a cigarette from his jacket pocket until he heard footsteps from behind. Not many people know about the isolated spot, so he was on guard. He reached for his pocketknife for assurance.

"Well, if it isn't my two favorite people."

Lincoln relaxed his hand and turned around. Mason followed suit and his smile widened when seeing the familiar person.

"Uncle Clyde," cried Mason as he ran to hug him.

Clyde dropped his backpack and tightly hugged the boy he adopted as his nephew. He kissed Mason on his forehead. "I am so happy to see you, Mase, that I don't know what to do." Mason couldn't do anything but smile.

"Close your eyes. I got something for you."

"Okay," replied Mason as he closed his eyes.

"Okay, ready, and go," said Clyde as he reached for the item.

Mason opened his eyes and saw it was a bag of candy.

"Jolly Ranchers," he cried. "Thank you, Uncle Clyde."

"No problem, kiddo," answered Clyde while rubbing Mason's hair.

Mason returned to Lincoln to show his father his candy. "Look what Uncle Clyde gave me."

"I can see that," replied Lincoln.

Clyde went into his backpack and pulled out a coloring book and crayons for Mason. "Hey, Mase. if you don't mind, can I give you this so I can borrow your father for a couple of minutes?"

"Hmm, hmm," replied Mason as he took the coloring book and crayons.

"Stay right there, Mase," replied Lincoln. "I will be watching you from this spot. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay."

Lincoln and Clyde walked to the concrete bench. As they were sitting, Clyde reached for a cigarette. Unlike Lincoln's, his brand was Mevius. Imported from Japan where he studied aboard during his sophomore year of college. He took a much as he could before returning to the United States. He took out his custom-made silver lighter. He covered the cigarette as he began lighting. He blew it into the air.

"I had thought you quit smoking," asked Lincoln.

Clyde narrowed his eyebrows. "And I thought you were quitting the life."

Lincoln blushed and was taken aback at Clyde's quick comebacks. "Touche, touche."

Lincoln took one of Clyde's Mevis and began smoking as well. Both were embellished in the silence of their cigarette session. It was more of a ritual between the pair.

It wasn't until a year ago when he and Clyde reconnected. Clyde found Lincoln at the airport in Chicago when he was returning from Japan. Lincoln was sitting at the terminal waiting for one of his clients. It was there when the former best friends reunited.

That evening, Clyde met Lincoln at an airport bar. He was there on a delay as he was returning back to university in Florida. It was an awkward, but comfortable silence between the pair. As much they wanted to talk, argue, scream, or laugh, they were happy to be back in common ground.

Clyde understood why Lincoln lost touch with his best friend. Since his father's death, he noticed the significant change in Lincoln. He was much surprised when Lincoln left Royal Woods without a trace. Clyde told Lincoln that they formed a search party for him. Many of the residents scoured the city looking for any whereabouts. He said the search lasted for two days until Lori called it off.

When Lincoln asked for the reason, he said that Lori called the cell phone company for his last cell signal. At that point, she knew her brother was going to be okay.

During their time at the bar, Clyde explained that Royal Woods changed since his departure and Ronnie Anne's departure. He included was becoming depressed that he decided to leave for warmer climates. He enrolled at the University of Central Florida where he majored in Finance. Around that time, he began gathering connections with banks and getting intel on the stock market.

Coincidentally, he discovered at Lincoln's sister, Lynn, was attending the university on a softball scholarship. He and Lynn spend time together as they were the only people they knew at the university. By starting his junior year, the pair began dating.

It was also there when Lincoln told Clyde about his job as an escort for housewives. He also admitted he was L's favorite escort for her personal encounters. And being a true friend, Clyde kept Lincoln's line of work in strict confidence.

Since their interaction, Clyde had returned to Michigan from Florida. Lynn had found a job teaching P.E. at a local high school in Dearborn. Clyde is finishing his degree at the University of Michigan at Dearborn where he is majoring in Criminal Justice.

"Sorry, it took me so long to get here," said Clyde as he was finishing off his cigarette. "It is getting tougher to lie to your sister about my whereabouts."

"She is a very vigilant girl, Clyde," he replied with laughter. "I wouldn't be surprised if she had a tracking device on you."

"Ha! Ha! Very funny," replied Clyde with a hint of sarcasm.

Lincoln began coughing before trying to talk. "Does Lynn still hate me?"

"I wouldn't say _hate_. But she doesn't talk about you anymore if that helps."

Lincoln flicked his cigarette ash to the ground. "Do you still blame me for what I do."

Clyde shook his head. "You are my bro. You do what you have to do. However, I am neither the judge or the jury. That's not for me to decide."

He looked the sky. "What the hell happened over the course of those few days." He took a sharp breath. "Like a fucking shit storm came and fucked everything up. My so-called fucking life just shredded like it wasn't shit."

"Calm yourself down, Linc," replied Clyde. "We can't explain life's mysteries of why it happened. But the best we can do is to recover."

Lincoln shrugged his shoulders. "I am just uncertain is all. My sisters, would they forgive me. My mom, that is a different story." He spat on the ground. "Speaking of which, how is she?"

Clyde looked away for a bit before returning to Lincoln's answer. "She has had better days. According to her therapist, if she continues treatment, she will be out soon."

"Not bad for a woman who survived jumping from the fifth floor of a building," murmured Lincoln.

"Easy with that, Linc," interjected Clyde. "That is still your mother. It was a big loss, your father, I mean." He sighed as he reached for another cigarette. "It was as if your pops was the glue that held you guys together." He flicked the lighter while taking a few puffs of the cigarette. "Who knew how delicate you guys were."

"If you say so," replied Lincoln.

Clyde grabbed his backpack and went inside of it. He retrieved a file folder and placed it on Lincoln's lap. Clyde works as an intern at the Department of Corrections for Detroit.

Lincoln opened the file folder to see inside. He pulled out a single piece of paper that contained a picture and a list of information.

"Ricardo Yi," said Lincoln as he read the sheet aloud. "This is my man?"

"Yes, sir," replied Clyde. "From the intel, I gathered at work, this man is dating Ronnie Anne."

"I saw pictures of him with her on Facebook, but I couldn't get a name," said Lincoln. "A very private man, I guess."

"He wasn't hard to find," retorted Clyde. "Nowadays, Google lets you be your own detective."

"Look, man," replied Lincoln as he felt insulted. "I am not looking for perspective." He scanned the paper. "What is his story?"

"Ricardo Yi," said Clyde. "The product of El Salvadoran and Korean immigrants. Born and raised in Chicago. This man has a rap sheet longer than the World Trade Center, Willis Tower, and Burj Khalifa combined."

"Any serious crimes, may I add," asked Lincoln.

"Most of it is robbery, theft, possession of stolen goods, and a long history of domestic violence," said Clyde.

He wrapped his fist tightly of hearing that confirmation. He narrowed his eyes while watching his son coloring and eating candy.

_If that gringo touches a single hair on my son, then I am coming for him and you._

"Another thing about Ricardo is that he has ties with the Latin Kings out in Chicago. Pilsen on the Lower West Side, if I am not mistaken," said Clyde.

"You are not mistaken," said Lincoln. "What you are telling me is nothing new of news. I just wanted confirmation." He slammed his fist on the table. "I told that bitch not to bring that garbage around my son."

"Calm down, Linc," said Clyde while doing his best to console his friend. "Let's not jump to conclusion. I got a connect out there who tells me that he keeps a low profile. He may operate in Pilsen, but he lives outside of the Chicagoland area."

"He can live next door to me for all I care," retorted Lincoln. "I don't want my son around him."

"Take a deep breath, Lincoln," said Clyde. "You are going to put yourself in the ground and Mason won't have a dad."

"Okay, I am gonna calm down," said Lincoln in between breaths. He wiped the sweat from his forehead while patting his hands on his legs. It is a habit whenever he is under stress.

"Ronnie Anne is a fool for love, but she is not stupid," said Clyde. "She is going to take care of Mason. She would be crazy if she didn't."

"More like her grandmother who takes care," snapped Lincoln.

"However, Ricardo should be less of your concern," said Clyde as he reached for another file folder he put on the bench.

"While I was looking for Yi, I happened to stumble some files with his connection with the Latin Kings." He opened the file folder and presented it to Lincoln. "Recognize this place?"

Lincoln widened his eyes in shock. It was images of the newly established condos, the Marymount.

"Hell yeah, I do," snapped Lincoln. "This is where L is going to start her new operations. How did you know?"

Clyde smiled while pressing his glasses to his nose. "Never underestimate the power of my resources."

Lincoln scratched his chin before continuing looking through the papers. "What are included in these files."

"Information that should concern you or at least L," he answered. "The Marymount is located near West Side Industrial, directly Downtown. And that my friend is gang territory."

"There is nothing 'hood about that neighborhood," said Lincoln.

"Just because it is a safe neighborhood doesn't mean operations are being served," retorted Clyde. "Closed and discreet is best."

Lincoln shook his head.

"Let's thank God that it is not drug territory, but it is where the girls of the night are serving," said Clyde.

"How big of a threat are these gangsters," asked Lincoln.

"They are small cliques like Micks, P. Stones, and Cobras, but they have connections with the Latin Kings," said Clyde. "Look, I am not trying to start a war. You are my friend and I am telling you as a warning." He closed the file folder. "I am thinking you need to talk to L about relocating."

Lincoln scoffed. "Good luck with that. I can never get her to change her mind. Whatever L wants, she gets."

"You think she is that bold for a war," questioned Clyde.

"L might be small, but she is very powerful," said Lincoln. "There is shit I still don't know about her." He took a breath. "And I have been sleeping with her for quite a bit. She is mysterious. No real name, nothing to check. I don't even know where she lives. The only thing I have on her is that…"

"The tavern," said Clyde. "I remembered you telling me that."

He laughed. "You are truly my best friend, dude." He changed his expression. "As a reminder, whatever we discussed…"

"Keep it on the low," answered Clyde. "Trust me."

"You are my only friend in my corner at this point," said Lincoln. "Don't let me down."

Clyde tapped his fist on Lincoln's shoulder. "Ride or die since day one. I am loyal to the end."

"No doubt." Lincoln pulled out an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Clyde. "My severance fee to put in the vault. There is a little cherry on top for you."

"Thank you as always," said Clyde. "So you have a plan?"

"I do," said Lincoln. "And hear me out on this." He looked at his son. Mason looked at his father and waved at him. Lincoln returned his wave. "I am going to play cool hand Luke with this."

"What is it?"

"L asked me to be part of training these housewives," he said while reaching for another cigarette.

"Are you gonna do it?"

"Don't have much of a choice," he said while taking another smoke. "If I want to get out."

Clyde let out an audible sigh, but it is a sigh of relief. "So, that is why you keep sending me money."

"I will need much as I can if I want to get out of it."

"I can't imagine how L might feel about your departure."

"What about her? My only devotion is to my son."

"My dude," replied Clyde while patting him on his back.

"Do some training, handle my business, and leave," said Lincoln. "It may sound simple, but I know it isn't. Take me and my son and got to parts unknown. As long as I got him, then I am okay."

"You are a good man, Lincoln Loud," said Clyde.

"Speaking of good man, I need a favor," replied Lincoln.

"Anything," said Clyde.

The duo was interrupted when Mason ran to them. In his hand was the drawing of his coloring book. "Look at the pretty drawing, Pop-Pop. I even went in the lines."

Lincoln smiled. "Look how my boy is an artist." He looked at Clyde. "Oh yeah, a pro at best. Like his father."

"Say, Mase, come see Pop-Pop for a second," said Lincoln.

Mason got on his father's lap as Lincoln whispered in his ear. Mason turned and faced Clyde. "Uncle Clyde, can I spend the night with my great uncles. If I can't, then I will develop a stutter. P-p-p-please don't do this to me."

Clyde smiled. "This kid is something else. Sure, Mason, I will take you to see your great uncles."

"Thank you," answered Mason as he ran back to coloring.

Clyde gave Lincoln a funny look. "What's going down?"

"L is coming through tonight," said Lincoln.

"To your spot," asked Clyde.

"In the flesh, literally," replied Lincoln. "She said that she wanted to talk about our deal. I also know she wants some one-on-one with her favorite _pet_."

"Cold," replied Clyde.

"Mason doesn't need to be exposed to this shit," said Lincoln. "I can't speak for Ronnie Anne, but it won't be from me."

"You have always been respectful and considerate, Linc," said Clyde. "Let's just pray everything works out."

"Here's hoping," said Lincoln.

Lincoln carried Mason as he walked with Clyde back to his vehicle. He gently put Mason in the back seat of Clyde's Escalade. He also put his sleeping clothes in the backseat as well. "Be good for your great uncles while I am gone." He kissed him on his forehead. "I will come get you in the morning."

"Okay, Pop-Pop," responded Mason. "Love you."

"Love you more."

He closed the door and looked at Clyde. "Thanks, dude. We will talk later."

"No doubt," replied Clyde. "Hey, Lincoln."

"What's up."

"Give Lynn a call, will you? I may have kind of lied about saying that I was lying to her about my whereabouts."

Lincoln put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Just send her my love, okay?"

"Got you, brother."

"Later, man."

Lincoln watched Clyde leave the area until he was no longer seen. Lincoln returned to Old Girl. He put the car into drive as he prepared for a night with L.

* * *

 

It was ten minutes after six in the evening when he returned to Highland Park neighborhood. It is there where Lincoln lives in a condo on the fourth floor of a refurbished apartment that used to be a sewing factory. He used his key fob to enter the private establishment. He nodded his head at the security guard before going to his apartment.

He never liked taking the elevator. The feeling of being in a confined space irritated him. He opted for the stairs. He walked the four flights of stairs to his apartment. It was located at the end of the hallway.

Apartment 406 has been his residence since knowing L. Since becoming L's top escort, she set him up with the place. She wanted him to be closer to his job. His place of work was only a few blocks away.

No one else has been in his apartment with the exception of L and on occasion, Black. Better yet, he was forbidden to have visitors because L feared on anybody questioning how can a nineteen year old is able to live in a lavish home? Lincoln doubted that theory. He knew that she wanted control. As he stared at the number of his door, he began questioning his direction in life. _How Dad? How in the hell did your death lead me to this? Answer me that, Dad, will you?_

He put his key into the door and entered the domicile.

"Hello," he said aloud to the silent apartment. He put his keys on the mantle as he clapped his hands to turn on the lights.

He walked to the living room where he grabbed the remote and put on some Coltrane. He tossed the remote on the couch and went into the kitchen. He went into the refrigerator where he grabbed a bottle of ginger ale.

Lincoln was not a drinker. He detested the taste of alcohol. He only drank when he was with his clients. Aside from that, he would never drink alone. His reason: "I already have sex and cigarettes as my vices. Why need more?"

He closed the refrigerator and took his sip of the ginger ale. As he was going to look for something to play on the record player, he noticed something out of place.

On his shelves, he had three long rows of vinyl records. Ranging from soul to jazz to rock to hip hop. On top of the shelf was a copy of Coltrane's _Blue Train_. This significant vinyl record was important to Lincoln because that was the gift that his father was supposed to give to him for his seventeenth birthday. He happened to discover it hiding under his bed while he was packing up to leave. He questioned why would his father do that, but he didn't give it any further thought.

His record was normally situated on the top row at the end of the shelf, not on top. He was taken aback when he heard something coming from the restroom.

 _Someone is in the house_ , he thought.

He labored his breath and took slow steps from the living room. He pulled out his pocketknife and tiptoed to the bathroom. He cornered himself beside the bathroom, hearing someone washing up. He knew as soon as that person exit, he was ready to attack.

He kept his eye on the knob, waiting in position. His heart began panting as he prepared. When the knob turned, he had his knife in aiming position. It opened and he was ready, but quickly stopped when he heard a yelp.

"Linc, Linc, stop," said the voice. She covered her hands in defense. Lincoln dropped the knife when seeing the blonde-haired, green-eyed green in his sight.

"Lori," questioned Lincoln as he became startled.

"Hey, Linc," said Lori as she was startled as well.

Lincoln began to lose color from his cheeks. He was quite surprised to see his sister. In fact, he was sort of fearful about it.

"What are you dealing here," he questioned her.

"I told the landlord that I am your sister," she said with a slight smile. "Surprise."

"Lori," said Lincoln. "I got to get you out of here."

"What's the matter, little bro," questioned Lori.

As he grabbed Lori by the arm, he heard the sound of his door becoming unlocked. He froze, becoming panicked because he knew who was behind that door.

"Oh my God," stammered Lincoln. "I got to hide you somewhere."

"What are talking about, Linc," said Lori with a concerned tone. "What's going on."

It was too late. The door opened. The appearance of Black entered the room. Following Black was the mysterious L.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. For the readers who have made it this far, thank you for your undying support. I hope you guys appreciate the direction I am going with this. Lincoln has a huge handful at this point in time. Let's hope he can balance it all. Stay tuned for more coming soon. Happy Reading and God bless!


	5. Overcast

Her beady almond eyes gave Lincoln such a glare that made him rattled. He knew it as he felt tension against his shaking limbs. He felt useless but trying his hardest to suppress the few more moments of time that he could no longer borrow. He wallowed in the silence, drinking whatever fear threatened to engulf him. This kind of thick silence would normally chill him, especially on an inky night devoid of even moonlight or stars. However, this silence is working at him as it was giving him the role of a slave. He felt it. And he knew that L felt. She feeds from it as it garners her energy to carry on in the decrepit world. That was the business she was accustomed to. If she didn't do it, then Black can certainly fill the position spot.

The more absolute the silence went, the stronger its medicinal effect. He wanted to be gone, he wanted to be away from the apartment. From the neighborhood. From the city. From the state. From the planet. Anywhere than being in a room with the mothers of the night and surprisingly his sister, who also came like a thief in the night. He was starting to misjudge his fear as his legs arms and fingers began shaking. No longer were any of his body parts were following any of his directions. They, as well, wanted to negate, to leave his mind and go to parts unknown. As he wanted to collapse, to kneel in a fetal position, all he could hope that God can grant solace and peace; and also a soft and quiet impact if Black were to silence him.

He does get neither results.

Black goes to the entertainment center where she turned off the stereo. She remained in the position while keeping her diamond eyes on her boss. L continued to look into Lincoln's direction. She took off her purse and put it on the mantle next to the door. She took a step. It broke the silence, making Lincoln say an involuntary "oof" from his lips. His heart dropped, the chill was settling in his stomach and lower spine.

Silence was becoming his enemy as the footsteps were coming closer to Lincoln. His eyes never left L's sight as she was approaching. Instinctively, he reached his arm from Lori. Although a weak defense, it was a reminder that family was a factor in his equation. Even if he was not the denominator or the numerator.

Lori moved his hand aside and approached L. She looked at her in her eyes, displaying a warm feeling to her. Like when greeting a familiar stranger. She extended her hands out to L.

"Good evening," said Lori. "My name is Anita Grace. And I am Lincoln's social worker."

L paused, becoming stammered by the introduction. Lincoln too was surprised by the lie Lori said. He turned to Lori. Lori didn't return his look. Lincoln watched as L extended her hand and shook it with Lori.

"Charmed," she said calmly. "I am Lincoln's business partner." She turned to Lincoln with her pursed lips, red like his flushed cheeks. Red like the blood started to boil from its previous chill. "I am also his good _friend_."

"It is nice to make your acquaintance," replied Lori as she remained still. "However, I didn't get your name."

"I am called Leiko around my social circles," answer L. She looked at Black as Black relaxed her demeanor. Black left the entertainment center and was heading for the front door. Before she left, L whispered in her ear for a few seconds. Black shook her head before stepping out of the front door.

"Sorry about that," said L. "Oh, I am sorry, Ms. Grace. Did I interrupt anything?" She looked at Lincoln. "I am sorry that I am here early. If I would've known you were having company, then I would have bought some wine."

Lori flushed. "Thank you, but I don't drink on the job."

L chuckled. "Sometimes you have to live a little."

Lori looked at the table. "Well, let's not stand here and look awkward with one another. Let's have a seat." She looked at Lincoln. "I hope you don't mind if we talk further about your case. Correct?"

Lincoln was astounded on how amicable a little Lori was creating. It was very Oscar worthy, he thought. L interrupted his thought as she took Lincoln by her hands and led him to the table. She instructed him to give her a seat. He pulled out the chair and L took a seat. Lincoln helped Lori or "Mrs. Grace" to have a seat. Lincoln seated himself in the center of the table. L kept her eyes on both him and Lori. Lincoln knew that look. She does that every time with a stranger. She was observing on how valid her story was. If she was really who she said she was. Lincoln let out a silent prayer that Lori doesn't blow her cover.

"Is it okay if I smoke, Mrs. Grace," she asked Lori with a calm demeanor.

"Not at all," answered Lori. "I am unopposed when it comes to smoking." She displayed L a pack of her own cigarettes.

"Kool, unfiltered," said L with a light chuckle. "Quite urban of you."

Lori flushed. "I have been around. I prefer black and brown anyway."

"Yummy," she responded.

Lori turned to Lincoln. "I apologize Mr. Loud for taking your value time. I am not going to be here long. I know it was unannounced, but those are the roles of being a social worker." She took a cough while reaching into her purse. She pulled out a notepad, a pencil, and a tape recorder. "I hope that you understand that all of the information we speak of is private. However, we require documentation for such things." She peered near Lincoln. "Just in case if something happens with custody situations, we just wanted to have our aces in the hole. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," answered Lincoln. "Do...what you have to do. It is for the sake of me and especially my son."

"Thank you," replied Lori. "Okay, first of all, you have told me that Mason isn't at home. Where is he?"

"With extended family friends out in Birmingham," replied Lincoln.

Lori was jotting notes on her notepad. "How well do you know family friends?"

Lincoln looked to the ceiling. "I have known them for a few years. Back when they used to live out in Royal Woods."

"Okay," replied Lori. "How come you didn't mention it to us in our previous reports."

Lincoln paused. He kept a poker face. He knew that Lori might be playing a role or could be telling the truth. At the same time, he knew that L was observing the both of them. He didn't want to get caught in a lie. Especially if L caught him in it.

"Answer the question, child," replied L.

"Ms. Leiko," interjected Lori with calmness. "He can take his time. When dealing with custody battles, it can bring quite a strain to the father. Mothers can be a pain honestly." She pulled out a cigarette. L gave her a lighter. "Thanks." She took a few puffs before giving it back to L. "As I was saying, mothers can be a pain. I had the same problem myself. However, it was during adulthood." She returned her sight to Lincoln. "Now, answer the question. Why didn't you mention it in your previous reports."

Lincoln sighed. "I wasn't sure on how you all have felt if Mason's guardians were a same-sex couple."

Lori flushed and L sort of chuckled upon hearing the news.

"Mr. Loud," said Lori. "Social services doesn't discriminate anything like that. We couldn't care rather his guardians were gay, straight, black or white. I am just telling you that you need to tell us these things in writing. We have to know so that you won't endanger your child." She wrote some more notes. "Does the baby's mother know?"

"Yes, she is aware. She used to know them back in Royal Woods as well," confirmed Lincoln.

"Does she allow visits," asked Lori.

He shook his head. "She knows. She is okay with it."

Lori hummed while writing down the information. "Why isn't Mason with you tonight?"

He gripped his fingers tightly on the table. He did not want to look at L's face. He already knew that she was beaming with a hidden grin. The smoke lingered on both sides of the table. However, one was leaving him with an intoxicated feeling. He was getting sick to his stomach.

He sighed. "Mason has a hard time with strangers. With my line of work, I have visitors throughout the city." He shrugged his shoulders. "You know how three-year-olds could be. They interrupt you. They beg. They may pester my visitors. Stuff like that."

"Okay," replied Lori. "As always, we have to keep being updated on your line of work." She looked at Lincoln. "From what your files tell me is that you were working at a diner in Midtown. Well, files get lost and that has been a few years. So, I need to know what do you do now."

He swallowed fear. He shook his head. _Here goes._ "I work for hospitality services. I give services to clients who are in need of good company."

"Good company," retorted Lori.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Lincoln. "My work is mostly with the elderly. Taking them to their appointments, read to them, go and have dinner, transportation. Stuff like that."

L's eyes were widened in disbelief. At the same time, she let out a slight smirk. It was too bad that Lincoln didn't look because his intention was to finish the fake interview so that he get Lori out of here. _Lori, you are dragging this too long. Please, you need to leave. You have no idea on who you are dealing with._

"With a company or self-employed," asked Lori.

"With a company," answered L. "Lincoln works for me. I am his boss. However, he is also my _partner_ in operations."

Lori shook her head. "How long?"

L put her finger to her lip. "How long? Well, he worked under me a couple of years ago when my services were in Royal Woods. Then, we reconnected when he came to Detroit."

"So, you two depend on each other. It's like you guys were meant for each other," said Lori.

"He is such a sweetheart," she replied with a strong tone. "Always dependable, always kind, and shows plenty of _girth_ with his services. He is my number one."

Lori smiled. She closed her book and put it back in her purse. "Well, I have enough information to ensure my boss that you are in good stead."

"Does it mean I can continue with split custody with Mason," asked Lincoln.

"Possibly," replied Lori. "We still have to look into your extended family members and get background information from them. I will give you call tomorrow about it." She stood up. "I don't want to further interrupt your time with you two. So, I am going to head out." She pushed her chair from the table. "Here is the number to the central office. I know you may have their number, but it is just protocol." She put it in his hand. "I suggest you talk about Mason's other living arrangements to them."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Lincoln. "Thank you."

"No, thank you for letting me in unannounced," answered Lori.

L nudged Lincoln with her hands. "Don't be rude. Walk her to the door."

Lincoln got from his chair and walked her to the front door. "Thank you, Mrs. Grace, for everything. I just hope everything works out."

"It will, Mr. Loud," said Lori as she was walking out of the door. "Keep your nose clean."

"I will, Mrs. Grace," said Lincoln with a smile. "Good night."

"Good night," replied Lori.

Lincoln closed the door behind Lori. He put his head on the door as a sign of relief. _She is safe. Thank God she is safe._ He then felt a pair of hands hugging his waist. The warm body pressed to his back, gripping tightly.

"Oh, my God," said L as she started kissing his back. "I thought the bitch would never leave." She urged Lincoln to turn around. She still kept him pressed against the door. She had her hand on his dick and she had her other hands to his face.

"Let's thank God that she was social service," she said. She chuckled, but it wasn't out of humor. It was displayed with a hint of seriousness behind. She made Lincoln get to the floor. She continued pressing her lips around his neck. "You should grateful because if that wasn't social services, you would have met a violation, you know?"

"Yes, mistress," he replied as his breath became labored.

"Luck was on my side to come early," she said. "I couldn't get you out of my mind. I am starting to think I don't even want other clients to have a claim on you."

Lincoln shook his head in silence.

She placed herself on his hips. She unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her soft tits. She pressed his face to her tits. "Lick," she commanded. Upon his licking, she began bucking her hips against him, alerting his dick to respond.

"Alas, I can't be selfish, but you are definitely my number one _pet_ ," she said in between moans.

"It doesn't matter if I want to or not, I must do what you tell me anyway," replied Lincoln as he returning sucking on her nipples.

She dug her nails into his neck, releasing moans of pleasure. "That's it, continue to do it like that," she said. "That's it, my alpha. That's it, tell me who you belong to."

"I belong to you," he said.

"Say it again," she cried.

"I belong to you," he said again.

"That is right," she cried. "You belong to me. I am your sunrise and sunset. I love you and you love me. She bit onto his neck. Lincoln winced from the contact.

"Say it again," she demanded.

"I belong to you," he said.

"Who is your master?"

"You are."

"Don't you ever forget that," she said. "You serve only one master." She took his chin away from her tits to reclaim his lips. Her tongue entered his mouth, cleaning out anything that was within. She concluded it with a nip at his bottom lip.

She stood up. "We are not finished." She swayed her lips to the living room. She went to his record player collection. She pulled out a vinyl record. She removed it from the sleeve. She set up the player and put the needle on the record.

Lincoln continued staring as he heard the song of The Friends of Distinction playing "Going in Circles." L swayed around, getting caught up in the beat and the slow tempo of the song.

At every beat, she slowly dropped her clothes, becoming evaporated to the beat.

_I'm spun out over you._

_I need you, baby._

_I'm spun out over you._

_I need you, baby._

_Spun out over you_

She walked to the lights where she shut them off, only leaving him and her in the dark. She slowly walked back to lying Lincoln. She took him by the hand.

"Let's go to the bedroom," she purred in a strong whisper. She pressed forward to him as she unbuttoned his pants. Lincoln remained still as she took off his shirt. Then, she finally helped him take off his boxers.

Both were enveloped in the darkness in their nakedness as the moon appeared through the curtains. The only thing Lincoln could see was her smile. Even in the dark, she could be a beauty, he thought to himself.

"I'm spun out over you," she cried as she took him to the bedroom. She continued singing the outro of the song as they were entering the bedroom.


	6. Play Misty For Me

The first thing Amin Shishani must have before doing anything of importance is a cup of coffee. It must be something of the Americano brand. And it has to come with two scoops of sugar and a splash of vanilla creamer. Anything outside of his selection was null and void. That was his nature, a standard for a better word. Since stepping onto American soil from his native Chechnya, it became a form of tradition. He was fifteen years old when his mother decided to abandon the depression of Grozny to seek better living in America. Honestly, it was just a formidable excuse of escaping the harsh hands of his pro-war, alcoholic, gun-toting abusive father.

McDonald's was his choice today. He would have gone to Subway to have his Seattle's Best Coffee, but the establishment was closed for renovations. He scratched the hairs of his chin, hinting reminders to himself to shave when he gets free time. He laughed at the latter half of the comment, free time. Amin was fortunate to have an even thirty minutes to himself. From hearing the shouts of the police commissioner at his face to repeated calls to the office of his supervisor to the tirade of phone calls from his worried wife about issues that were not even a factor in the equation, Amin wouldn't trade it for anything. It was not easy being a detective. Nothing in his life was easy. So to him a sparse minute to shave was quite the luxury. He was fortunate to have his shaving kit in his Suburban. Sometimes, he often called his twelve year old SUV his mobile home.

The Highland Park Police Station was behind the McDonald's. With a half hour before his shift began, he had time to drink his coffee and catch up on his reading. Sociology was his guilty pleasure. After graduating from the University of Chicago, he had intentions on becoming a sociology professor. Before he could even grab a pen to register for graduate courses, his girlfriend became pregnant. Sociology is now a form of study, better yet, a form of life, he concluded. When exposed to multitudes of crime after crime, it became easier to understand that he was a professor of sociology of the streets. The garnered knowledge of society and why man had the capabilities to produce good, or in his expertise, produce evil.

He had to thank the Japanese newspaper, Asahi Shimbun, for his introduction. In his abnormal psychology class, he had to find a topic on serial killers. After watching the movie,  _Misery_ , and observing the nature of Kathy Bates' character, Annie Wilkes, he knew he was looking into the subject of serial killers. Like all college students, Wikipedia was his source. While scanning on Annie Wilkes, he saw a link that connected him to other serial killers, including Japanese midwife, Miyuki Ishikawa.

Miyuki Ishikawa was a midwife who worked at a Tokyo hospital. She was responsible for the deaths of over 100 infants. She did not act alone. She had her occasional help. Regardless, the young, fragile lives were under her cruel, gripping hands. Seeking for further information, he looked to the Asahi Shimbun for his source.

Amin was proficient in the Japanese language. His adaptation to the language is simply because his wife is Japanese. They met in college in their freshman orientation class.

He scanned through the newspaper thoroughly, reading the kanji and furigana characters to understand that misunderstood, fallible, insolent creature known to others as Oni-sanba, or demon midwife. According to her testimony, her reason was because of the high risk of poor parents in the town. There was not enough support available to care for these infants and the parents were unable to support and weren't available at all. Seeing that these infants were not going to have a promising future, she disrobe herself as the midwife in exchange for becoming the mother of death. These infants did not have an form of mercy. Many were starved to death, some beaten, others were left to the cruel imagination of discernment.

It went on over the course of four years. Suddenly, she finally was arrested for her crimes. What irritated Amin was the length of sentence that was given to the demon midwife. She received four years in prison. The Tokyo High Court granted this mother of death, the demon midwife four years to lament on her sins. Public opinion was based on the feelings of this situation. What made Amin more upset was the nickname the infants received,  _abandoned_  children.

He continued reading on how many praised Miyuki Ishikawa for her deeds, stating that she was doing Japan a service to control the population. Others praised her as a misguided attempt to give the poor a message if they are unable to afford their children.

He heard a tap on the passenger side window, interrupting his thoughts. His first instinct was to grip around his pistol. A habit he despises, but he had to be careful. Not every surrounding was common ground. He released his grip when seeing the man standing outside of his vehicle. He was a tall, young African American gentleman sporting dreadlocks that extended to his shoulders. He was sporting a casual look, an overcoat and blue jeans with Chuck Taylors, which was typical of a young adult. In his hand, he had his backpack with the expression that he was to be heading to school. Amin had already collected intel on this individual. He learned that despite his age and working as an intern for the Department of Corrections, he was a reliant individual.

The individual in question didn't like conducting business within anything of the public. He was weary of private locations as well. Closed and discrete was his trademark. And even if the location was secured, he rather had picked another place after conducting meetings. His philosophy: never hit the same place twice, for you will never know when someone could be watching.

That attitude and demeanor were the very reason why Amin was chosen to look after this individual. Amin worked alone. He hated tag-alongs. However, his supervisor explained in a briefing that this individual was going to be useful for an upcoming case. How important and useful was this individual, he questioned the supervisor. The supervisor explained in one word,  _useful_.

He unlocked the door to allow the individual to enter his vehicle. Along with him entering, so did the arid, frigid cold air. The youth greeted him with a smile while extending his hand.

"Are you my guy," questioned Amin while extending his stiff hand to return the handshake.

He raised his eyebrows, displaying his surprise of the tone of their first greeting. "That is a nice way to say  _ride along_."

Amin rubbed his slick peppered hair to stare at the steering wheel. He let out a small laugh. "They already said you were going to be difficult."

The individual tightened his grip around his backpack like it was the only thing of his possession. He returned his looks to the olive-skinned detective. "Depends on how you say difficult. I mean will our relationship be difficult because  _they_  say it might be?" His voice was raised, with a hint of being offended. "Or, I might be difficult because of the information I possess?"

Amin rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble and wishing now to shave, he reached the cup of his now lukewarm coffee. He took a sip before discarding it outside of the window. "Look, excuse my attitude. I meant nothing by it by my tone. Be as the accent or my rough tone, but if we are going to work together, I would like it to be on good terms. Understand,  _kid_?"

"Clyde McBride is my name,  _detective_ ," said the individual while pulling out a cigarette.

"Hey, who gave you permission to smoke," questioned Amin.

"Oh, I am sorry," answered Clyde flatly with a hint of insincerity. "Would you like one?"

"Jesus, kid," replied Amin while sighing loudly. He took the cigarette and quickly put it into his mouth. After lighting and taking a couple of puffs, he turned on the ignition and put the car into drive.

They were heading north on Woodward Avenue. Traffic was steadily picking up, not surprising for a Monday morning. The slew of yesterday's weekend warriors snaking their way down the road to destinations unknown. He lost count on how often he traveled this long stretch of road. Before being moved to the Highland Park Police Department, he used to work at Detroit's Twelfth Precinct on street patrol for this street for many years. He could tell everything about traffic patterns, when people make infractions, accidents, incidents, and the like. After so long, he began loathing the road. He believed the road agreed as he, himself, was also a victim to this road.

He pulled to the corner of West Seven Mile and Woodward Avenue where he sat at the light. Once again, he gripped his hands around his gun. It wasn't long ago where he put his gun to the test. It was at that corner where a couple of vigilantes decided to use him for target practice. He survived the incident but left him a parting gift of a prosthetic hand. That explained why his hand was always stiff when greeting others.

He continued left on West Seven Mile passing the Twelfth Precinct. He looked to the left of Palmer Park before he broke the silence.

"I hear very good things about you," said Amin. It was not a compliment, but it wasn't an insult. Despite his choice of working alone, ironically, he loved conversations. He didn't like silence. It gave him too much time to think, leaving room for things he did not want to remember. Better yet, things he wished it could vacate his mind. It took a few seconds before Clyde answered him.

"Thanks," answered Clyde without looking at his direction. "I can say the same thing about you."

"Don't flatter me, kid," replied Amin. "The amount of knowledge at your age is nothing more than a gift. From what I have heard, you know much of the police handbook or any books on criminal law."

"Anybody can become a detective or a law enforcement officer these days, sir," replied Clyde. "Wikipedia and the internet gave us plenty of material to research said information. It just on how you value your time." He returned back, facing the window and taking another smoke of his cigarette. He retrieved a set of headphones from his pocket and put it into his cell phone. He lied against the window, listening to his music.

Amin already knew that their conversation was over.

Amin had once killed a man. Or at least that he tried to tell himself that it was a man. A man is person who takes responsibility for their action, regardless of the consequences, regardless of age. He can never forget the image as it is stuck in his mind. Like a camera, it is frozen in the moment when he gripped his gun with his finger on the trigger. The sun beaming on him, intensifying his momentum. His eyes was on the suspect, or at least that was what his partner told him. He laid eyes on the man who in return did the same. And that moment, as he pulled the trigger, he realized that behind the mask of the man was actually a young boy.

It was too late. He soon learned after that fact that the boy had yet made his nineteenth birthday. In his keychain, he carries a small image of the boy. It was a picture of him and his girlfriend. He looked happy, she looked happy. He lamented on what happened that day for the boy to become apart of something. It was senseless waste, Amin thought. He hoped to return it to the girlfriend one day. It wouldn't do much, but he hoped it would bring some form of closure.

Because the boy's last breath was that girl's name.

The pair arrived at a church in Detroit's Bagley neighborhood. A car passed by with its windows down, playing music and going at a high rate of speed. Amin overlooked it for it was a job of a traffic cop, a position he wasn't any longer in. The church, outdated and stood the test of time stood proudly. With its well-manicured yard, Amin could tell that presentation was everything, where it counted.

According to Amin's supervisor, it was the venue for their meeting. He stepped out of the car and stretched his legs and his arms. His age was getting to him, he thought. Clyde walked around the SUV and pointed at the back entrance.

"This is where we are going to meet," said Clyde while toting his backpack.

Amin wondered if that was a question or a statement, as if was Clyde telling him about where they were meeting or he was asking him if they were meeting there. He overlooked it and followed him to the church.

The pastor greeted the gentleman as they walked inside. He watched Clyde made the sign of the cross as they made inside.

"So, you are Christian," said Amin.

"I don't identify with a specific faith," responded Clyde. "It is a matter of respect."

"Oh," responded Amin as he continued walking the aisle.

The pastor, clothed in plain clothes attire, led them to a hallway. The sound of murmuring and the scent of old coffee made their destination a dead giveaway. The pastor opened the door and led the gentleman in. Amin knew the second he stepped foot into the dilapidated office that this was the real deal. In the pastor's office stead was replaced with laptops, neatly aligned at the outer walls of the office. Television monitors positioned at the center of the office, next to the desk where he could see his supervisor talking on the phone. There was many in the office. Mostly unrecognizable detectives; people who seek a name, but nothing serious had happened to get it. Amin didn't know if he was in a church or in an electronic store.

But one thing was for certain, he was in central command.

His supervisor rubbed the dirt from his hands as he went shook Amin's. He had a firmer grip with Clyde while patting his back. He pointed to Clyde where he could set his equipment. He went without haste. Amin turned around where he saw another individual pushing a bulletin board into the room. Following him was another individual with plastic dividers, notebooks, pencils, and a suitcase. The basic supply pack for law enforcement officers who are conducting an investigation.

"Amin," said the scruffy haired supervisor while scratching his beard. "Hope it didn't take you too long to find the place." He let out a small chuckle. Amin laughed to himself on how the portly supervisor's stomach shook as he laughed. "I hope the boy didn't give you a hard time either."

"No problem at all, Lawrence," replied Amin. "Quiet as a mouse. Quiet as a mouse."

"Well, that mouse is going to be highly useful for us in the long run. He is really a godsend, a wealthy resource of information."

"Really? How so?"

"I rather let him do the talking when he conducts this interview."

"You are telling me that he picked this location?"

"Certainly! We had other spots in mind, but why not a church?"

"Is that a risk, Lawrence? There can be leaks?"

"No worries, Shishani." Amin and Lawrence turned around as Clyde was glaring at them while setting up his equipment. "This place is tapped. I also have a scanner for everything or anything that comes in and out of this building. For what the parishioners know, this church is going under renovations."

The supervisor or Chief Lawrence laughed as he patted Amin on his back. "Normally, I would be with you on this, but I am having my gut feeling on this kid."

Amin questioned rather the supervisor was losing his mind or taking chances to make the department look good. In his mind, this was amateur hour. For any investigation, including the one he was about to find out, there was no time for games. In his previous precinct, the supervisor would have ridiculed Chief Lawrence of this risk, but that was something he was not going to tell.

"Alright, it seems to me that we are able to get started on this case," said the supervisor. He scanned the room, with all of the attention on him. He pointed as if he was taking attendance. "Wait a minute, we are missing one."

The door opened and Amin made a quick glance before he saw a blonde entering the room. She wore formal business attire. Her hair was wrapped in a ponytail. She was wearing high-heel shoes. Her demeanor displayed that she was serious as if she did not come here for games. Each step she made as if she was walking with a purpose.

"Sorry, gentleman for being late," said the blonde as she found a seat. "Finding this place was a bit hard, especially when you haven't been here in awhile."

There was no response. One of the detectives closed the door. He dimmed one of the lights. The supervisor waited until all were seated and waited. He made a brief prayer to himself before he began.

"Good morning, detectives," said the supervisor. "We are here today to discuss some serious manners that has been pressing our streets for too long." He took a breath before resuming. "I may have told a few of you on what this could be about. However, I needed confirmation on the matter. After conducting my research with a special individual." He paused again, turning to Clyde. "It is best to understand that what I am about to say to you is between you and you only. Everything in this room is confidential. I do not want any leaks. Everybody is this room has a special purpose of being here. This team here is going under an assignment that will make news." He sighed once more.

"There is an illegal operation going on in this town and it involves underaged children and prostitution. For a while, we have been receiving tips about a secretive organization that engages sexual misconduct with underaged children. Until now, we just heard talk, but thanks to some special people, I am happy to say that we have now an understanding on what they are about."

He notion to one of the detectives to turn on the projector where it displayed a powerpoint. He then turned to the blonde woman sitting at the table.

"Gentleman, this is Officer Lori Loud. She is an officer from Portland. I bought her in on this case because she a huge factor in knowing about this secret organization." Lori kept a calm demeanor as if unfazed of the recognition. She nodded her head in confirmation. "If you guys don't mind, I am going to allow her to have the floor for this presentation. I will advise you all to take notes."

Lori stood up and faced the center of the table. She looked at Clyde before returning her eyes on Amin. Even Amin was surprised on how confident she was. Even as young as she could be, her maturity was of a woman in her late forties, maybe fifties.

"Morning, gentleman. I come to you today to present the findings on an organization that is known for their engagement with underaged children. How I discovered this, I will explain later. For now, I am going to tell you who they are."

She clicked on a slide.

"They are called the Keepers. It is a secret sororal society that was established in Detroit over eight years ago. Who are involved in the group? Housewives that seek discreet sex with boys, mostly underaged. They gathered at different homes where their rendezvous occurs. They never stay at the same place too long. They never want to raise suspicion. How do they attract boys? There are different ways.

They had female scouts, known as  _omegas_ that frequent establishments where there isn't any parental supervision. Parks, arcades, malls, typical hangout spots. They have to get a kid they slept with and turned, also known as a  _beta_ to go with them. The  _beta's_ job is to help the  _omegas_ find unsuspecting kids. When they find targets, the  _beta_  goes to them and tells them things like "do they want to make some money" or "do you want to have fun with some girls" or "do you want to have a great time with some company?" Anything to get the other kid's attention. Another way to get a boy's attention is online. They get a  _beta_ to start private chats to invite boys to join him on the action with these women. Facebook, Twitter, and , the list goes on. Teenagers aren't stupid when they seek fun.

 _New blood_ or first timers are appointed on weekends. They come up with any story to their parents on their whereabouts. The  _omega's_ peak hours are around noon. A time where kids tend to go out or working parents are unavailable. The  _new blood_ will meet at a McDonald's or a Starbucks or a park with a  _beta._ They go into a car with the  _omega_ and set off to their destination. One important detail about this. The kids are masked so they have no idea on where they are going. They are taken to houses in private locations. As they enter, they are chosen by random by housewives. Think of being at a swinger party or a sixties' key party. They go into their private rooms where they engaged in sex. According to my source, the woman are masked as well. Once the boys are finished, they are returned to their drop off point.

Those who stay adopted the persona of  _beta_ and those who don't return must take a vow of secrecy to never disclose any information about the Keepers."

A detective raised his hand. "What about the kids that want to talk?"

"I will get to that later. Let me continue with the details," answered Lori as she continued clicking on the slides.

"As I explain further with the Keepers, there are stages of them. I have discussed the betas and the omegas. Here are the others: the  _epsilon_ , the  _gamma_ , and the  _alpha_.

The  _epsilon_  is a child who engages in sex with housewives and/or single women. Unlike  _betas_ , a  _epsilon_  serves a position of being a prostitute.  _Epsilons_ are outcall to different places where they sell their services to women. They are not alone. They have an  _omega_  to watch them until their services are done. To become a  _epsilon_ , the mistress of the society took a strong liking to the former  _beta_  and to be tested by other  _omegas._  A  _epsilon_ is a promoted position in the Keepers. Not every child gets that opportunity.

 _Gammas_ are omegas in training. They are housewives who paid for sex who has desires of working with the Keepers. They go under a prospect period in which they engaged in sex with  _betas_. They also have roles of cleaning and tending to the affairs of the Keepers. If a  _gamma_ can last, then their final test is to be trained by an  _alpha_. Their goal is to have the  _alpha_ submit to them. Once the  _alpha_ submits to the  _gamma,_ then they become  _omegas._

Finally, the  _alpha_. The  _alpha_  serves a special position under the Keepers. It is a position not many boys have the opportunity to ever pursue. An  _alpha_  must have received strong approval from the mistress of the society that she, herself, received him through a personal encounter. The alpha is under the wing of the mistress as her personal pet. The role of an  _alpha_  is to submit under her at all times. He serves as an escort, meaning he is catering to women of notoriety. Unlike other positions of the tier, whatever money he receives belongs to him."

The lights were turned on. Amin was impressed of the systematic hierarchy of the Keepers. He tapped his pencils as he scratched his beard. He watched as the supervisor came to the center of the table.

"As you can see, we have our work cut out for us," the supervisor. "We have plenty of work to be done. From this point on, this is ground zero. Let's get to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. I know it has been quite a while since releasing the last chapter. I am not finished with this particular scene at the church. It will continue in a later chapter. The next chapter is going to finally focus on Lincoln as he is going on assignment to a client. I am working on the chapter. So, I hope you guys continue to support me and follow and/or favorite this story. Take care, happy reading, and God bless!


	7. I Call Your Name

She held her breath whenever she passed his room, or what it used to be his room. The former utility closet belong to her only brother since his parents gave him that room when he could no longer sleep with his sisters. She saw the effort of her father cleaning and sweeping, dusting every fiber of the room so that Lincoln could have a place to sleep. Every evening, her father completed his ten-hour work shift to complete that project. She saw on his face. She saw it on his hands. The sweat, the cuts, the bruises, all for making sure her brother had a place to sleep. Lincoln was a pride to her father's joy. Something she envied, vie for that same given affection. An affection of brotherhood for only a man could only give to a man. The respect among the fairer sex. For a moment, only for a moment, she wished she was a boy.

That utility closet was now a former shell of its former glory. Where her brother used to call his home. He wasn't home. He no longer lived there. Just a shell of missing drawers, posters, clothing, him. She held her breath every time she passed his room. She didn't want a peek, a scent, nothing lingering of him. Her real intent was to hold the tears. The tears that she can only share with herself. Her sisters weren't as compassionate as she was. Shortly after calling off the search, their mother immediately went into his room. In a midst of frustration or getting caught in the heat of the moment, she tore his room apart. Her rage was a tremendous roar. A tsunami of flipping and twisting and tearing anything that bear a resemblance or a hint that belonged to LIncoln. The sisters stood at the head of the stairs, hearing the sounds of broken bed frames, broken glasses, and the sheer shout of a bereaved woman.

They all turned and looked at Lori. As the surrogate matriarch and elder of the Loud sisters, they just stared. All displayed blank faces. They didn't speak, but their faces told the same thing.  _What is our next move, Lori? What are we going to do now, Lori? Help us, Lori. Tell us something, Lori. Don't just stand there and watch our now only parent suffer. Do something! Do something! Do something!_

The odd wave of somber and anger relished within Lori. Why should she be the one responsible for this? She was grieving too. She just buried her father and now her brother was gone. She did not want to use the word "kicked out." She refused to even say, he "ran away." The first word she parted from her lips, which caused the sisters to give her a confused look, was "escape."

"He escaped," she told her sister faintly. There were more words she wanted to say. They were at the edge of her tongue. She could have open the floodgates of what she really wanted to say. But, she didn't. She turned away from her sisters and slowly walked the few paces to her bedroom.

For the first time, thoughts of suicide were added into her vocabulary. She laid in the darkness of her bedroom for the next few days. Tears absorbed her pillow like a sponge. Her body, casted in sweat, lingered onto her sheets. She didn't sleep. She didn't bathe. She laid in her own filth until it became unbearable for her sister, Leni, and she left Lori to herself. Lori couldn't care less. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to lie in her own misery.

_Escape_

It coveted her mind. It became a declaration, a birthright given to the depressed Lori. She craved it for she craved for death. Those few days she wanted to die. Too much of a coward to die from her own hands, she hoped that depression would lead to starvation or dysentery, or her sisters would do the favor to end it for her.

Like the way someone did her father.

Lynn was a healthy man. Very outgoing and very athletic. It didn't make any sense to Lori that her father had died from a massive heart attack. She kept tabs with her father, gone to many of his doctor's appointments. She knew because her father used it as an excuse to give her opportunities to drive. She sat with her father through the process and the doctor always gave her father a clean bill of health.

How can a healthy man die from such a disease?

Her depression ended and slowly she began returning to her former self, or at least that was what she displayed to her sisters. In the back of her mind, she wanted to escape. Escape from whom, she wondered. However, the word linger on her mind, creating a reservoir, resonating within. It started to build and make a foundation among other things in her mind.

_Escape_

_Escape_

_Escape_

She covered her ears, pleading silently for it to go away. It resulted in the odd looks from her sisters.

"What are you talking about?" One of the sisters may have asked with curiosity in their voice. A tone that often drift into "does she need help" or "should we consult mother about this."

She laughed to herself about her mother. She, too, was more in a mess than she was. Her mother never left her room since destroying LIncoln's old room. Even as she was laying in bed, she heard an occasional shout of " _Lincoln," "Lynn," or "Fuck you" or "Burn in hell" or "I wish I never birth you."_ In the end, all resulted in crying.

"Nothing," she always told them with such gentle calmness. "There is nothing to worry about. Just things that big sisters go through." She concluded the conversation, never want to say more about it.

* * *

Amin turned the box lunch that the pastor offered him and the other detectives. His excuse to the pastor that he was fasting and was unable to eat until sundown. He was met with a warm smile, commending him on following his religious principles. Amin gave him a slight nod, producing a smile. Since the supervisor allowed the detectives a two hour recess, he used the opportunity to catch up for a smoke and possibly some reading. He had his tablet on hand.

He pushed through the double steel doors from the hallway, went through the kitchen, and made his way to the back of the church. The pastor mentioned that there was a garden out there. It was rarely used. One of elderly parishioners still frequented the scare area, planting gardenias and tulips. Amin could tell by the efforts of the garden that someone wanted to keep life, existence. Something that questions his philosophies these days. Explain that the person who caused him his hand and the life he had taken away.

He cast aside those thoughts as he went on the footpath. He saw a small marble bench. Carved in stone were words he felt many should live by.  _For who the son sets free, is free indeed._

He reached for the cigarette until he saw something catching his attention. It was the blonde that conducted their presentation. Lori Loud, if he remembered correctly. There was such an aura in her, Amin thought as he search for a lighter. Her age showed that she was in her twenties, but her stature, her stance, screamed a woman who had bare witness to life's repercussions. He was uncertain. For all he knew, this woman could have the perfect life. However, he was acutely aware of the company he kept within his circle. All bared sin, all had stuff to hide. Many had faced transgression and sought redemption. He included was a fallen sinner who received a second chance on life. It was the graciousness of his current supervisor who gave him that second chance. And if it wasn't for him, the remainder of his life would have spent writing reports from a desk or death. Death had sought his face, read into him like braille letters on many occasions. Often, he sought for it as well.

His wife had just better thank Death for he would have easily embraced it in open arms.

"Oi!," called Amin. The blonde officer redirected her attention. He had caught her in the middle of lighting a cigarette. "Those cheap lighters never do the fix." He tossed his lighter to Lori. "Use mine."

She blinked at the detective, giving herself a few moments to think before returning his offer. She covered the lighter, achieving her goal to smoke. "Thanks," said Lori. "I really needed this. Cheap dollar store lighters." She planned to return the lighter, but wavered his hand.

"Don't worry, Loud," said Amin. "I keep plenty of those around me. Never know when you might need one." She was fidgeting. Even with the cigarette, she couldn't stand still. It didn't go without notice from the detective. He scooted over from the bench to give her some room. "Take a seat, would you. I can tell you are not use to being around strangers."

"Thanks," she answered as she took a seat. "How did you know?"

"Your demeanor," answered Amin. "Plus, it is never easy for a women to have a position of power in a male-dominated workforce." He flicked the ashes. "Especially in this damn chauvinistic police force."

"A feminist," she questioned while winking at him.

He coughed. "Heavens, no. A strong willed wife."

"Charming," answered Lori. She tilted her head to allow the smoke to flow into the sky. "Where are my manners." She extended her hand. "I am Officer Lori Loud. Or Officer Loud. Whatever you think." Amin knew she was flustered. Her face was red. Her fingers were fidgeting. He called his own intuition, but he knew the blonde had other things aside from this line of work. However, being a gentleman, he doesn't persist to ask unless they offer it to him.

"Pleasure," answered Amin as he returned her handshake. "Amin Shishani, detective. You can call me just Amin. I never get too cocky on honorifics and titles."

"No problem," said Lori. "So, detective you say? How long on the force?"

"Recent promote. Less than year. Spent over ten on the force."

"Homicide? Robbery? School Enforcement Officer?"

Amin smiled. "Lady Loud has jokes. No, no. Just street patrol. Just regular Johnny Law."

"Taking the tradition route? Noble and very old school. Took the exam?"

"Recommended from the higher ups. Getting a little too old for the new boys." He licked his lips, fidgeting with his cigarette pack. "What is your story, Loud?"

"Until a few months ago, I worked as Patrolwoman out in Portland," she said as she flicked the ashes of her cigarette. "It was nothing. No different than shoving mule shit when you are in the bottom of the pile." She looked to the sky for a moment. It looked as if she was thinking. It allowed Amin time to interject.

"You had mentioned earlier that you haven't been here in awhile. You a native here?"

"Born and raised," she said while smiling. "Well, from Royal Woods way. But not too far from Detroit."

"What made you move out there?" He paused before adding, "May I ask?"

She turned, displaying a blank stare. Her eyes look endless as if he had answered a question that can blow up in his face. However, she returned with a slight smile. "I guess I just wanted to escape."

There was a brief moment of silence. The pair watched a couple of detectives leaving the church. One of them was on their phone. Judging by his demeanor, he was talking with a loved one. Another one pulled out a cigarette before leaving out of sight. Lori finished her cigarette and flicked it to the ground. Amin noticed it and stood up to get it.

"It's never right to discard something on holy ground," said Amin.

She clicked her tongue. "Religious," she said while reaching for another one. "I was once."

Amin pondered on that. It sounded too similar when dealing with the other young assistant from earlier. He was a man of faith. A devoted Muslim. A respecter of person's beliefs regardless of background, he didn't like when people down on his heavenly father. "Listen," he said, wanting to change the subject. "I want to say how interesting you presented yourself with this rich wealth of information." He pulled another cigarette. "I didn't think you had such vast knowledge on this information, especially not being here so long."

Lori turned to Amin. "Look, Amin. I can tell you mean well, but you can drop the good guy bullshit."

He was taken aback. "How do you mean?"

She shook her head. "I have seen many guys like you present themselves as friendly. Offer me a cigarette, a seat, and have pleasant conversation. By doing those things I will be forced to invite you to dinner and leading to crazy, debauch sex and I don't call you the next day." She turned to him with a stern look. "If you are seeking that from me, then look elsewhere."

"Look here, chicky," interjected Amin. "First of all, never judge a man's table if you haven't seen his valley. Second of all, I am a married man. A happily married man by the way and a father may I add. If I teach my child how to be a better man and respect women, then how in the hell would I want to sleep with you?" His eyes displayed seriousness. He was already questioned by another younger assistant. He refused to be questioned by another young individual. "Look, I don't want trouble. When I saw you, I saw something different. Like you didn't match us. As if you didn't belong here." He cracked his knuckles. "I feel as though you were brought here on a personal assignment. And I am not mentioning by your line of work."

Amin watched Lori's face drained. "You seem to happy-go-lucky for this kind of work. If I would have met you somewhere else, I would have said CEO or something. Not being a police officer."

Lori furrowed her lips. She grabbed his lighter and tossed it back at him. "Thanks, but no thanks for the lighter. Please forget we even had this conversation." She stood up and faced him. "By the way, even I wanted to fuck you, your old last wouldn't last."

Amin tried to say something, but it was already too late. She was half way into the footpath before she returned back to the church. Amin wasn't trying to be offensive. He just told how he sincerely felt. He had seen many gentle-natured people like that that ended up in losing their faith on life. He wasn't trying to hurt her feelings. Finishing the last drag of his cigarette, he began his walk to the church. He walked a few feet before spotting something on the ground.

It appeared to be a small photo. He saw something written on the back.

_Bobby and Lori 4 ever._

He picked it up. He quickly bit his lip. He felt that someone were to shoot him dead, he didn't mind. On the picture, it showed an image of a Latin boy and a Caucasian girl. They were wearing matching white t-shirt. They were in a tight embrace. She had her lips on his cheek. The boy had black hair and the girl was a blonde. He reached into his keychain and the image he had of the deceased boy matched the exact picture that was in his hand.

_What are you waiting for? Take the shot._

_But, I can't._

_Shoot that puto!_

_Oh God. Oh God. He wasn't armed. Oh my God. Call for help. Call for help._

_And get us in trouble. Don't worry. We can fix this._

_He is just a boy. He was just a boy._

_Don't worry. We can fix this._

He began choking as if water filled his lungs. He was gasping for air. He knew fate can play hands and knew that fate didn't have an expiration date. He never expected the very girlfriend would be someone on the force. It was right there he wish he would have met her under a different circumstance. He asked Allah for forgiveness and mercy and put the picture in his pocket, with the hopes of returning it to Lori. He prayed by the time they interact again, she would have a calm demeanor, or he figured something out.

* * *

Lincoln lowered the volume of the radio so he could think. He felt as though thinking was all he was capable of doing. A few moments ago, he watched his son, who he calls his most precious treasure in the world, returning back to his mother. He strained and tugged, crying and asking for his father, Lincoln. Lincoln masked the tears, wiping his forehead and returning it with a kiss to Mason's cheek. He asked Mason to dry his eyes. He pulled off an used tissue to aid in his assistance. He told Mason to be a good boy and if his mother allowed him, he can have another visit. Mason stood proud, beaming with the smile that always made Lincoln melt. He covered his neck, preventing from wanting to cry.

He gave Ronnie Anne some money to give to her grandmother. She took it without a gesture of a thanks. He texted the grandmother to assure that that money will be sent on arrival. Ronnie Anne tapped Lincoln on his shoulder and walked with Mason into the train. Lincoln turned around as he heard the wailing of his son calling his name. Each step Lincoln made produced more tears as he arrived back to Old Girl.

He put his head to rest on the steering wheel. Tears released as if a dam was breached to full capacity. He mouthed the name of his son repeatedly. He kept apologizing to him, stating how pitiful he was for letting him go. Or how much of a fool he was. Or regretting the fact that he was in the position to unable to take care of his son. He made a promise to himself and to the picture of his deceased father that he was going to leave the escort business. He just need a little time and money to make it happen.

While Old Girl remained in the parking lot, he reached into his pocket. Inside was a crumpled envelope that was stained and taped from apparent wear and tear. Inside was a letter that his father wrote to him. It was a final will and testament of sorts. He was unsure if his father wrote letters to his sisters. Not many of them shared anything with Lincoln since their father's death. Honestly, their relationship was deteriorating longer than that. He can say that the seed was planted after the death of their youngest sister, Lily.

The police concluded to be an accident. No apparent cause of investigation. It was an accidental drowning. Lincoln was fourteen at the time. He was at home when it happen. However, he was not in the house watching Lily. At four years old, it was no surprise that Lily was becoming curious of the world. She became self-aware and self-dependent. Often, she woke up her siblings to get them ready for school. Lincoln took into Lily so that she was able to become successful. So much so that he prioritized his schedule to Lily's regime. He helped her with her reading. He taught her how to dress and cook. And his fatal mistake, he taught her how to take a bath. Although she was four, she was still small in stature.

He gripped the steering wheel. He didn't want to lament any further. He knew it was accident, but why did he blame himself? He could come up with thousands, if not millions of alternatives to save her life, but she was no more. The only thing he had of Lily was a homemade keyring that she made for Lincoln.

She made it at her preschool the day before her death. It was wrapped in a tiny box next to his nightstand. It was also a tiny card attached to the box. Inside of the note, it said:  _Thank you, big brother!_

He still has the card inside of his box in his closet along with other things of his past.

The letter was a note that his father made for if the worst occur. Judging by the handwriting and the degree of the paper, it was recent. A few weeks prior to his father's death, his father would have sudden blackouts. He would fall ill at any time. Instead of going to the doctor, he just thought it was severe exhaustion. As the weeks drew nearer to his death, it was getting worse and worse. Lincoln urged his father to seek treatment, but his father refused.

To this very day, Lincoln has not looked at the paper. He was fearful. Fearful on what could be inside of the envelope. It was silly, he honestly thought, but heart gripped with grief any time he had the nerve or even the thought to open that envelope. So, he kept in his pocket. He did it if the worst were to happen to him, somebody can do him the honors for him. His second thought was to pass it to Mason. A letter to a man he has never met.

It was near midday when he had arrived back to the city. The desolate, pitch black soul of an atrium that he currently called home. He reached for another cassette tape. "I Call Your Name," he said aloud as he put inside of the deck. He leaned his seat, getting comfortable to the savory, falsetto voice of Michigan's own Bobby DeBarge.

_I'm not worried 'bout a doggone thing_

_I'll take anything you bring_

_Although I love the sunshine_

_I'll still accept rain_

_Cause when I'm in my lonely mood_

_And I just can't be with you_

_I tried everything to occupy my mind_

_And there was no substitute_

This song was meaningful for it reminded him of the days of being back at the Rescue Mission. Mother Fukuoka was a secretly a fan of the DeBarge, or anything Motown had to offer to the daughter of God. He remember acquiring some of her tapes as a parting gift before returning to the world of debauchery and darkness. He stopped at the light. He had an appointment with one of L's associates. It was a called an "afternoon delight," "early evening matinee," or "afternooner." Whatever vernacular that incorporated sex. Lincoln wasn't in the mood for he was still sore from the late night rendezvous with L. Despite his soreness, L didn't believe in any excuses for a day off. She had recommended opioids, which he blatantly refused.

_Becoming a methadone zombie and confined myself in the world like my mother? I refuse!_

Something spotted his attention at the corner. He slowly a figure that he haven't seen in quite some time. Instead of wearing the symbolize clothing of the Lord, this individual was wearing a gray sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. She had her hair in a ponytail and was wearing a baseball cap. His heart became warm when seeing the familiar Mother Fukuoka in her boring, plain clothes attire.

The car behind him honked, urging him to make a decision. He knew he wouldn't have another shot like this. He reached for his phone and texted the client. He had told her that he would be late. He made a turn and headed for the place where Mother Fukuoka went to save souls and when she wanted some key lime pie.

He thought it was a blessing to see an open spot in front of the diner. He signaled, making a perfect position in his car. He credited Lori for teaching him how to parallel park. It was one of the few thing he had cherished most about his sister. He still had the slip of paper in his pocket. He made a solemn promise that he would call his sister after he straightened things out with today.

Not only did he have an afternoon appointment with a client, tonight was also the night of L's gala at the new apartment complex, the Marymount. During their after sex bedtime talk, L discussed very important clients will be there. Many of the women and boys were to be put on displayed. She basked in the happiness when telling him that she was saving him for last. She told him that the others were going to watch him and her perform their sexual act. She smiled, seeing the gleams in her life.

'This is confirmation that you are  _the_ alpha for me. I wanted it to be a surprise, but I got too excited. Just think, my dear Lincoln. For the rest of your life, you will serve under me. I am the sunrise and sunset of you. Bathe in the happiness that your mortal life will be spent with me.'

Mortality was right, Lincoln thought as he closed the door, locking it. He walked into the diner. The sound of the bell alerted the customers whoever arrived. Not many turned. However, a few saw him and their face went ghostly white. An older gentleman of Arabic descent was behind the counter nearly dropped his order when seeing the old stranger enter the diner.

He ran from around the counter to hug Lincoln. The portly gentleman gave him such a hug that it had nearly took Lincoln's breath away. The embrace was broken, leaving the portly gentleman sniffling.

"Oh, my God," said the gentleman. "Does my eyes not deceive me, or do we have a great God?"

"God has to be real," smiled Lincoln as he shook the gentleman's hand. "Mel, oh buddy. Good to see you."

He smiled, wiping his forehead. "Oh my God, Lincoln. This is such a blessing for my sore eyes. Come on, let's have a seat."

"Actually," interjected Lincoln. "I wanted to see if Mother Fukuoka was around here."

Mel released a friendly smile. "Yes, yes, she is. Still have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

Lincoln shrugged his shoulders. "The usual, Mel."

He shook his head. "Heck no, buddy. Water and cigarettes? No sir." He called the name of one of the servers to come. "Come on give my boy here a Grilled French toast with cheese and jelly and a glass of orange juice."

The server nodded, retreating to the kitchen. Mel offered Lincoln a window seat at the booth. Lincoln preferred somewhere that he didn't want to be seen. Mel led him to the corner of the diner. Mel sat across from him, not letting his smile leave once.

"It has been a minute, Lincoln," said Mel. "How are things?"

"Interesting for the most part," answered Lincoln. "I am still alive, a plus! I still live in the city."

"Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful," answered Mel. "Allah is such a blessing!"

"So, how things been with you, Mel?"

"Wonderful! As you may know, I run this joint!"

"You run this joint! No way?!"

"Owner kicked the bucket. Had me in his will."

Lincoln shook his hand with Mel. "Congratulations, comrade!"

Mel peeked over and released another strong smile when another presence was behind Lincoln. Lincoln turned to see Mother Fukuoka. She extended her hands, and Lincoln came to embrace the women who he considered his savior.

"My child has come home," said Mother Fukuoka. Lincoln felt the tightness of her hug, which gave him warmth and protection. "My child is back. Thanks be to God!"

"I am here," said Lincoln, wiping the tears with his sleeve.

Mel scooted from his seat. "Come, come, take a seat. I have to get Lincoln's order. Do I need to get you anything, Diana?"

"No, Mel. Thank you, sweetie."

Lincoln's eyes widened when he saw Mel and Mother Fukuoka exchanged a kiss. He tilted his head when seeing the moment. "Mother Fukuoka?"

It was return with a warm grasp of her hand, rubbing it affectionately. "That is now a nickname that I am commonly referred as, my dear Lincoln." She sighed. "A name that goes along any closed chapter."

It was a few minutes when Mel return with Lincoln's order. He gave Mother Fukuoka the same thing. Mel patted Lincoln on the shoulder, urging him if he need anything to let him know. Lincoln nodded and thanked Mel.

Mother Fukuoka drank her orange juice. The duo were finishing the conversation. "Being a child of the Lord, us saint makes mistakes. Some mistakes are worse than others."

"But, ex-communicated? Really?"

"Alas, dear. My past was revealed. I couldn't sit there and lie for it will be against the very thing I entered the monastery for."

Mother Fukuoka, or Diana explained to Lincoln that in her early adult years, she became involved with the wrong crowd. Her life of destitute led to drugs, prostitution, and robbery. The very reason she joined the monastery was because of a robbery she did. The robbery led to murder. Although she wasn't involved in the murder, the robbery was enough to convict the former nun. She changed her identity, hoping that the statute of limitations will expired becoming returning to her former life. However, the calling of God became a part of her. She had changed her ways and wanted to live better. She, now, realize that just because she had changed doesn't mean anybody would.

"Don't fret, Lincoln," said Mother Fukuoka. "I am still involved with the homeless here. I am starting my own ministry with Mel. So, don't worry about me."

"I won't," said Lincoln. "But at the same time, I still. I mean, I know I haven't been here in awhile. But, you, the ministry, Mel. You are on my mind."

"I know, child," answered Mother Fukuoka. "I pray for you each and every day. From the time I wake up to the moment I fall asleep, you are always on my mind."

"Thank you, Mother," said Lincoln. "And I mean what I say when I call you mother."

Lincoln wanted to stay long, but he knew he was on a schedule. He gathered his things to leave. He reached for his wallet, but Mel waved his hands.

"It's been taking care of," said Mel. "Just come back and see us. Don't be a stranger."

He hugged the couple goodbye. He promised that he was going to come back and visit them. He stepped into the car. He wiped his eyes. His lips quivered as he desired to be back in that diner. Back in the arms of people who care about him. Where he wasn't looked at as an object, a sign of affection.

Beside Lori, Clyde and Mason, Mother Fukuoka and Mel were people he cherished. "A few loose strings," he uttered to himself. "A few loose strings." He turned the keys to the ignition. The music of Bobby DeBarge returned. This time, "I Call Your Name" has developed into a deeper meaning.

As he was approaching Madison Heights to meet his client, he pulled out the phone to call Clyde. Clyde answered on the first ring.

"Hey, man. What's up," said Clyde.

"I need so intel," said Lincoln.

"On what?"

"Banks where I can keep our money secure. I am talking untraceable. So, get ready to spread these funds because I am planning to get out of the game."

"I will be on it! Hey, Lincoln!"

"What's up?"

"Just wanted to say I am happy that you are becoming the man."

"Thanks, bro. Later!"

He was determined that training these housewives was going to be his one last score. He turned up the volume as he made his way to his destination; all the while thinking of his son, Lori, Clyde, Mother Fukuoka, Mel.

Overall, he thought of his father.


End file.
